


Smile For Hire

by GettinGrimey



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Pretty Woman Fusion, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Rick, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, M/M, Prostitution, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Sexual Harassment, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Top Negan (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:47:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettinGrimey/pseuds/GettinGrimey
Summary: Rick, a down-on-his-luck divorcée desperate for work, tries his hand at prostitution. Negan, a wealthy businessman tired of his predictable life, finds himself suddenly single and in need of an escort for social events in Atlanta.(Or: a Pretty Woman AU)





	1. Chapter 1

Negan was driving down for a business trip from New York to Georgia. This would be his first time in Atlanta. He’d just had his ‘69 Camaro serviced for the trip. He could have flown in on his private jet, but he figured the lone drive down would be relaxing. The money was nice, but his job was beyond stressful. Being a corporate raider was a ruthless business. 

 

The stress of his job didn’t only affect him, it spread to others. Others he was supposed to be close to. His girlfriend, most recently ex-girlfriend, Lucille, was fed up with being neglected. It had gotten to the point where she was speaking to his secretary more than him. She packed up her things and left him last night. She was supposed to join him on this business trip. 

 

Now he would need to find an escort to accompany him to several business meetings and social functions over the next seven days. That shouldn’t be a problem with his suave looks. He possessed a wickedly handsome smile and knew how to rock some serious scruff while wearing a fifteen-thousand dollar suit. Hell, he knew he was good looking. His money had nothing to do with that. Though he was never quite sure, when someone made the attempt to flirt with him, if it was for him... or his money.

 

He could have anyone he wanted, male or female. And he's had quite a few of each. But they all lacked the one thing he was looking for. The ability to laugh. Everyone in his bubble was stiff and humorless. None of them knew the meaning of the word fun. All business. No pleasure. 

 

He remembered how much fun he had as an adolescent. Cliff diving into Lake George. Skipping school to hang out with friends. All night parties that his parents knew nothing about. He was the epitome of a real wild child. 

 

He longed for moments like that now. To just be able to cut loose and not give a damn about what anyone thinks. High class living could be a real pain in the ass without a break from the norm every now and again. 

 

What he wouldn't give to hop on a public bus instead of in a limousine. Sink his teeth into a greasy burger that he eats with his hands instead of pâté with fifteen different forks on the table. He sighed, eyes focused on the road ahead. Maybe some day. 

 

***

 

Rick rolled over naked in bed, fumbling to shut off the infernal ringing that was coming from an old fashioned alarm clock. With no air conditioning, the Georgia heat made it impossible to sleep in clothes. It's 8pm. He's getting up before most people put head to pillow tonight. He's starting his new job. He's broke, he's hungry and the rest of his half of the rent is a week past due. 

 

He rubbed his eyes and looked over to the other bed in the room. Empty. His roommate, Daryl, didn't come home again today. Probably too drunk to find his way home, he thinks. Maybe he's been arrested. Maybe something worse. But Rick can't afford to worry about that right now. 

 

He showered in cold water because this shitty apartment building has never had hot running water. The building owner doesn't mind to demand the rent when it's due, but asking him to repair something is like pulling teeth. He was the very definition of a slumlord. 

 

Digging through his grocery bag that was serving as a dresser, he pulled out a pair of bright blue bikini briefs. Looking in the dirty mirror on the door, he ran his hand down the front and adjusted himself. He turned to examine his backside. He raised an eyebrow and admired his own anatomy momentarily. It isn't out of vanity that he does so, he's just well aware that this is, quite possibly, his only chance at livelihood now. 

 

His one pair of jeans are hanging over the curtain rod. They're still damp, but at least they're clean. He used several safety pins to close the sizeable rip in the leg. As he's pulling on a pair of socks, he reflects back to when he bought these jeans. 

 

His wife— _ ex _ -wife Lori always went with him when shopping for clothes. She had a knack for fashion and loved for her husband to show off his fit body. Nothing, she said, accentuated his ass like a pair of tight Levi's. 

 

In reflection of Lori, he thinks back about how, exactly, she came to  _ be _ his ex-wife. She came home from work early one afternoon and found Rick fucking his best friend/partner of 5 years from the local police department, Aaron, on their bed. 

 

At the time, Rick didn't consider what he had done  _ cheating _ . It wasn't like he was sleeping with another woman. He realizes now, of course, that coming home and seeing another man's dick in your husband's ass... is definitely cheating. 

 

He understands what he did was wrong. But he was only acting in, what he considered to be, self defense. Lori had been carrying on a not-so-secret love affair with another officer from the same police department, Shane, who claims to be the father of Lori's unborn child. 

 

Rick fell hard into a self-destructive, downward spiral and lost everything. His home, his wife, his job. He had nowhere left to go but Atlanta. He knew the one person that wouldn't turn his back on him was Daryl. 

 

The two of them went to school together, from kindergarten to graduation. They were inseparable. They weren't brothers by blood, but it was the closest thing either of them had to real family. 

 

After high school, Daryl took off on his own for Atlanta. He had ambitions to become a millionaire. For whatever reason, he just knew that Atlanta is where he would find his fortune.

 

When Rick made it to Georgia and found Daryl, he saw that he was down on his luck, too. He was barely getting by. Some days he ate, some days he didn't. Booze was cheaper than food. He always managed to get his hands on a bottle. 

 

He explained to Rick about how he turned tricks. It wasn't a glamorous job, but when it paid, it paid well. A hundred bucks for one hour. He told Rick that he was having a hard time keeping the rent paid, but with the two of them working together, it would be a breeze. 

 

Rick slipped a tight, black tank top over his head then stepped into his boots. When he gets ahead enough financially, his first plan of action is to buy a new pair of boots. The pair he's standing in now are falling apart at the seams. He imagined, after all of Daryl's big talk, he'd be rolling in dough soon enough and could buy anything he wanted. 

 

He brushed his teeth, twice, and flossed very carefully. He was adamant about oral hygiene, especially now since he couldn't afford a dentist. He was lucky to afford the toothpaste. He gave his scruff a quick touch-up and threw on a belt, ignoring the constant growl coming from his empty stomach. 

 

Grabbing his leather jacket and a handful of condoms from Daryl's stash, he shoved them into his boot and deemed himself ready to go. His ears were assaulted with the sounds of arguing coming from the stairwell as soon as he opened the door. 

 

“Look lady! You being a single mother is not my problem! Your rent is two weeks past due! You either pay me now, or you get the fuck out!”

 

Rick panicked. He knew he would be faced with the exact same fate if he walked down those stairs. He slipped back inside the apartment and crawled out the bathroom window. Lowering the ladder, he shimmied down the fire escape and dropped down to the sidewalk. 

 

He walked past the bar Daryl frequented. He decided it was worth a shot and went inside. “Anybody seen Dixon?”

 

Someone motioned their head in the direction of the stairs. He spotted Daryl, sitting in the lap of man who resembled the likeness of Jesus.

 

“Daryl. Where the fuck is the rent money? It wasn’t in the jar.”

  
  
“Oh yeah,” Daryl said, slurring his words. “I used it to throw a party last night. It was a kick ass party, too man. Cops and every fucking thing.”

 

“Are you shitting me?” Rick was pissed. “Are you fucking shitting me? I gave you every last penny I had, Daryl. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

 

Daryl provided no answer. He went back to kissing his new  _ friend  _ Paul. Rick was having none of his shit. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down the stairs.

 

“The fuck?” Daryl was fighting to free himself from Rick’s grip.

 

“C’mon! We gotta go to work. If we don’t pay the rent, we’re on the fucking street.”

 

Daryl pulled free and made one last stop at the bar. He ordered a shot of tequila. Rick helped himself to the cocktail garnishes while the bartender’s back was turned. Gathering as many cherries, orange slices and olives that he could fit in a napkin. The bartender discovered his hands in the bowls and snapped.

 

“Get the fuck outta there man! This ain’t a fucking buffet!” 

 

Rick ran out the door with the first meal he had managed to scavenge in two days.

 

***

 

Negan's GPS is being a little bitch right now. He's managed to get himself lost. He sees an older man on the side of the road. 

 

“Excuse me. Can you tell me how far I am from Atlanta?”

 

The man looks up and thrusts his arms toward the sky. “You're already here, sir. Welcome!”

 

Negan savored his southern accent and friendly demeanor. 

 

“Where might I find the St. Regis hotel?”

 

The man leaned in and gave him specific directions. Negan knew he should have written them down, but he simply thanked him and drove on, hoping he would remember. 

 

Rick and Daryl were the only two males out on the busy Metropolitan tonight. Since male escorts were harder to come by out here, they could charge more than the average twenty bucks. 

 

“I got a good feeling about tonight.” Daryl said. “We're gonna hit fucking pay dirt, brother.”

 

Rick was starting to feel nervous now. He had never done anything like this. He's had two lovers in his entire life. His wife, and the one-time hookup with Aaron. He was far from shy, but this was a different level of crazy for him. Fucking guys for money. 

 

“Man I'm starting to feel fucking stressed. I mean, I've spent weeks looking for a job here. Nobody wants me. What if the same shit happens out here? I got nowhere else to go.”

 

“Hey,” Daryl said. “You gotta have confidence, man. These fuckers pick up on that shit. You gotta own it. Work it. They'll want you. And remember, we're the boss out here. We say who, we say when, we say how much.”

 

Tires screeching from behind them caught their attention. 

 

“Oh shit!” Daryl said, excitedly. “Check this shit out!”

 

They watched the black Camaro go by, then slam on the brakes. The car waited. Rick looked up, eyes as big as frisbees. 

 

“God damn!” Rick said. “That's a fucking ‘69 Camaro!”

 

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Nah, man. That's rent! You should go for him. Don't take less than a hundred. Call me when you're done.”

 

Rick nodded and took his jacket off. He took a deep breath and headed toward the Camaro. 

 

“Work it!” Daryl shouted. “Work it! Own it!”

 

Rick added a little swagger to his step and ran his fingers through his hair. 

 

He leaned into the passenger side window. “Hey sugar. You looking for a date?”


	2. Chapter 2

Negan looked up. He was not expecting to see such a stunner staring back at him. Those eyes. He swallowed hard, remembering who he was.  _ Where  _ he was. Right. He was lost. 

 

“Uh... no actually, I'm lost. Could you possibly give me some directions?”

 

“Sure,” Rick smiled. “For twenty bucks.”

 

Negan scoffed. “That's fucking ridiculous.”

 

Rick cocked an eyebrow. “Price just went up to twenty-five.”

 

“You can't charge me for directions.”

 

“I can do anything I want to, honey. I ain't lost.” 

 

He straightened his back and was already writing this off as a complete waste of time. He looked back in Dary’s direction. He was getting into a nice pickup with some hot guy in a cowboy hat at the wheel. 

 

_ This asshole just cost me a hundred bucks! _

 

Rick turned his back. Crossing his arms and letting his heels rock off the edge of the curb, he leaned against the side of the car. The round of his ass was inside the car and on full display, thanks to the open window. He tapped the steering wheel quickly with his fingers. 

 

“Alright,” Negan conceded. “You fucking win. You got change for a fifty?”

 

Rick opened the car door and slid inside. He snatched the fifty dollar bill out of his hand. “For fifty, I'll show you personally.”

 

Negan was holding his hand up like the money was still between his fingers. 

 

“Down the street, make a right.” Rick buckled the seatbelt as Negan pulled away from the curb.

 

Negan was trying to convince himself that this guy’s audaciousness wasn't turning him on. 

 

“This is a hot ass car,” Rick said. “Is it yours?”

 

“Yes it is. And thank you, I like her myself. What's your name?”

 

Rick looked over and smiled, Daryl's words reverberating in his head. _Work it._ He could still get a date out of this if he played his cards right. “Whatever you want it to be, sugar.”

 

Negan's stone-faced glance told him he was unimpressed with his attempt at being brassy.

 

He sighed. “It's Rick. My name is Rick.” 

 

He thought about making up some other name, but when he looked at him, the truth seemed to be knocking on the back of his teeth, wanting out.

 

“So where are you looking to go?” Rick asked.

 

“St. Regis hotel. Know where that is?”

 

Rick  _ was _ impressed. The St. Regis was lavish and ridiculously expensive. He could eat for 6 months or more for what they charge for one night. And that's the cheapest room. 

 

“It's about a half hour drive,” Rick answered. “Man. I fucking love this car!”

 

Negan loved his excitement. “You… you wanna drive?” He surprised himself by asking the question. He didn't even know this guy. Yet here he is, offering to let him drive his black classic baby. 

 

“You fucking with me?”

 

“Well, if you don't want to —”

 

“No!” Rick said, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt. “I do. I do.”

 

Negan pulled over and exited the car. He opened Rick's door and waited for him to get out. Instead, he got another eyeful of that denim-covered ass as Rick crawled over the console and hopped in the driver seat. 

 

Negan cocked his head and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. 

 

“Fasten your seatbelt,” Rick smirked. “I'm taking you for the ride of your life. You ready?”

 

“I am ready.” Negan answered, sounding a little less than sure. 

 

Rick smiled and hit gas, squealing the tires and gripping the steering wheel. He darted his tongue out frivolously. He was talking nonstop, explaining something about the control pedals, but Negan wasn't paying attention to a word he was saying. He indulged freely in getting a good look at the man next to him. His dark hair was thick, curly and just long enough to lay perfectly against his neck. He smiled as he spoke. It was a great smile, too. One that affected his face as a whole, especially his eyes. His exposed biceps flexed with his grip on the steering wheel. 

 

“Did you know that?” Rick’s words disrupted his daydream. 

 

“Know what?” Negan asked.

 

“That your foot is as big as your arm from your elbow to your wrist?”

 

“No,” Negan laughed, appreciating his random knowledge dropping. “I didn't know that.”

 

Rick shrugged. “Just a little trivia for ya.”

 

“So tell me,” Negan said. “What kind of money do guys like you usually make out here?”

 

“I can't take less than a hundred dollars.” Rick was quick with the information and wasn’t quite specific enough.

 

“A hundred dollars a night. That's not  _ too _ shabby.”

 

“That’s a hundred dollars an hour,” Rick said, correcting him. 

 

“An  _ hour _ ?” Negan was floored. “You make a hundred bucks an hour and your fucking jeans are held together by safety pins? You  _ gotta  _ be joking.”

 

“I never joke about money.”

 

“Neither do I,” Negan replied. 

 

Rick looked tensely into the rearview mirror. “To be totally honest, I've never done this before. You're my first… well you _woulda_ _been_ my first customer. Ever.”

 

Negan couldn’t stop thinking about it. There was something about the impulsive man who was currently driving his car twenty-five miles over the speed limit.

 

“A hundred dollars an hour, huh? That's uh… that's pretty stiff.”

 

Rick could sense his interest. He thought he may as well try and sell it while he's in the driver's seat, literally and figuratively. Without taking his eyes off the road, he leaned over, putting his hand over Negan's crotch and gave his dick a firm squeeze. 

 

“Well... not yet. But it's got potential.”

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

Rick pulled the car up to the front of the hotel, slamming on the brakes and coming to a screeching halt. The doorman immediately opening the passenger side door. 

 

“So,” Rick said awkwardly. “Here we are.”

 

Negan smiled at him, pulling his luggage from the trunk. “You gonna be alright out here?”

 

“Oh, sure. I can just catch a cab back with my fifty dollars.”

 

_ Damn that smile. _

 

“Gotta get back to your office, right?” Negan chuckled anxiously. 

 

“Right,” Rick answered, emulating his laughter. “My  _ office _ . I like that.”

 

_ Stop looking at me like that, Rick.  _

 

“Well, thanks for the ride. It was... fun.”

 

“Sure. You bet.” Rick knocked his fists against his hips and twisted apprehensively in place. “Well, I'll see ya.”

 

“Goodbye,” Negan said hesitantly, watching him walk away. He missed that smile already.

 

Rick walked to the bus stop and sat on the back of the bench with his broken down boot-clad feet up in the seat. As hard as money was to come by, he sure as hell wasn’t about to waste what he just made on a taxi. He took his jacket out of his lap and slipped it on, wrapping the leather tightly around his rumbling stomach. At least he could get something to eat later. 

 

He was a bit disappointed that his first date fell through, but he was a little proud at the same time. He made half the amount of money he would have in half the amount of time without sucking _or_ fucking. He admitted to himself, he wouldn't have minded doing either with the handsome stranger. 

 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and put his earbuds in. He figured that would make the time spent waiting for the bus pass more quickly. 

 

“What?” Negan said, sneaking up behind him. “No taxis?”

 

“Nah. I actually prefer the bus.” Rick looked over his shoulder, chewing his bottom lip. 

 

Negan squinted, inhaling deeply through his nose. “Just to be clear… you did say a hundred dollars for one hour, right?” He couldn't believe he was actually about to go through with this. 

 

“Yep,” Rick replied, reeling him in with a killer smile. “A hundred dollars for a  _ whole _ hour with me. Small price to pay if I do say so myself.” 

 

“Well,” Negan said. “I was thinking, if you didn’t have any prior obligations, you could join me in the hotel?”

 

Rick’s insides were a swirling concoction of confidence and fear. Confident that he was closer to having the rent money, afraid because he was about to turn his first trick. 

 

_ It’s just sex. _

_ You’ve had sex before, Rick. _

_ Get ahold of yourself. _

 

“I can do that,” Rick said, jumping down from the bench and siding up to Negan. “So what’s your name?” 

 

“I'm Negan.”

 

“ _ Negan _ ?” Rick said excitedly, nudging him with his shoulder. “No way! That’s my favorite name in the whole world.”

 

“Really?” Negan laughed. “I’d be willing to bet that fifty bucks that you just conned me out of that you’ve never even heard that name before.”

 

Rick laughed and looked down at the ground in defeat, hooking his arm around Negan’s.

 

“I thought so.”

 

***

 

“Holy shit.” Rick looked around the hotel lobby in amazement. Grand staircases, crystal chandeliers, gorgeous fireplaces. Wall-to-wall elegance. He was definitely out of his league here. The stares he was receiving told him everyone in the lobby was in agreement to that fact as well. He gripped Negan's arm tighter out of fear. 

 

“Maybe we should just do it in your car. I'm really flexible. I don’t need a bed to— ”

 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Negan whispered.

 

“Everyone is staring at me.”

 

“It's okay, Rick. I promise. Wait here for a minute.”

 

“No no no,” Rick begged, pulling his arm. “Don't leave me here alone.”

 

Negan pulled his arm free.  _ “I'll be right back.” _

 

He approached the front desk and opened his mouth to speak. 

 

“I'm sorry, sir.” The lady was looking over his shoulder. “But I'm going to have to ask your  _ friend  _ to wait outside.” 

 

Negan looked back at Rick. “And why the fuck is that?”

 

“We don't rent our rooms here at The St. Regis by the hour.”

 

Negan could feel his blood pressure rising. “Could I speak to your manager, please?”

 

That was Negan's polite way of saying  _ I'm about to have your fucking job, you judgmental bitch. _

 

He looked back at Rick again. He was wiping the sweat off his forehead, doing his best to ignore the questionable stares from the other guests as they walked by. 

 

“How may I help you, sir?” 

 

Rick watched as Negan exchanged words with the hotel manager. Angry arm gestures and hands slamming down on the desk. He felt like he was about to throw up his stolen bar fruit any second. Negan was pointing backwards with his thumb as the manager looked at him over his shoulder. He knew, whatever the problem was, had  _ everything  _ to do with him. 

 

“Mr. Negan, sir. What can we do to make up for this  _ terrible  _ misunderstanding?”

 

“You could start by teaching your employees to not be so fucking biased against your paying guests _._ ” The lady was red-faced and on the verge of tears. “And a bottle of your best champagne for my _friend_ would be a nice touch. Some strawberries, too.”

 

“As you wish, Mr. Negan.”

 

Rick saw the man pick up the phone. He assumed he was calling the police to have him removed from the hotel, or worse, arrested for prostitution. He turned around to leave, thinking he could save them the trouble. 

 

“Where are you going, Rick?” Negan caught him by the arm. 

 

“I can't be here.”

 

“Of course you can. Everything is fine. You’re officially a welcomed guest here at the fucking St. Regis. Let’s go to our room.”

 

***

 

Rick’s mouth fell open when the elevator took them to the Empire Suite. As soon as the door was open, he began to explore tepidly. The bathroom, in and of itself, was nicer than his entire apartment. White-marbled walls and floors, a television  _ inside  _ the mirror, a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. 

 

There was a living room, two bedrooms, a dining room, a full kitchen and an exercise room. 

 

“Are you impressed?” Negan asked, observing his childlike wonderment.

 

“I’ve seen better,” Rick lied casually. “So now that you have me all to yourself for the next hour, what  _ are  _ you going to do with me?”

 

Negan laughed. “You wanna know the truth? I don’t have a goddamn clue. I’ve never done this before either.”

 

Rick stared in bewilderment. “Why would you hire a male companion if you’re not… if you’ve never been with a guy—”

 

“I didn’t say I’ve never been with a guy,” Negan interjected. “I’ve just never...  _ rented  _ one.”

 

Rick took his jacket off and watched Negan’s eyes graze over his arms and chest before dipping lower. 

 

“Now would be a good time to pay me,” Rick said, Negan's hungry eyes still traveling over his body. 

 

“Oh,” Negan said. “Right. Forgot about that, sorry.”

 

He took out his wallet and tossed a hundred dollar bill on the desk. Rick took the money, shoved it into his pocket and hopped up on the desk.

 

Negan looked down. “You’re… ” 

 

“What’s wrong?” Rick asked.

 

“You’re sitting on my wallet.”

 

Rick smiled playfully. “That’s the first time anyone has ever complained about me  _ sitting _ on something of theirs.” He leaned over, lifting his ass up just enough for Negan to slide his hand under him and retrieve it.

 

“Cute,” Negan laughed. “You’re very cute.”

 

Rick looked up and noticed the balcony. He had to investigate. “Wow! Come look at this view!”

 

Negan was going through papers in his briefcase. “I'll just take your fucking word for it. I'm not going out there.”

 

“Why not?” Rick asked, coming back inside. “It's amazing.” 

 

“And I'm fucking afraid of heights.” 

 

Rick's face was scrunched up in confusion when he came back in. “Why would you rent the suite on the top floor if you're afraid of heights?”

 

“Because it's the best.”

 

Rick hopped back up onto the desk and pulled the condoms out of his boot. “What color you want? I've even got gold.” Rick wiggled his eyebrows. “You look like a gold man to me.”

 

Negan observed the rainbow assortment of condoms in Rick’s hand. “Well aren’t you just a smorgasbord of safety?”

 

“Oh I’m all about safety,” Rick said pointing to the safety pins holding his jeans together. “See?”

 

Negan sighed and stood up. “Look can we just—”

 

“You bet we can.” Rick put his hands on Negan’s waistband and started to unbutton his suit pants. 

 

“No.” He put his hands out, gently pushing Rick back. He laughed nervously. “Can we just talk for a while?”

 

“Talk?” Rick looked baffled. “You wanna talk?”

 

Negan took a seat in one of the chairs and put his feet up on the ottoman. Rick followed him and went to bridge-sit on his legs. Negan pulled his feet to the floor causing Rick to sit on the ottoman. 

 

“You’re not making this easy,” Rick huffed, pulling his tank top off. “What do you wanna talk about, Negan?” He walked his fingers up his lap, getting dangerously close to his groin. They jumped up at the same time when the doorbell rang. 

 

“Who the fuck is that?” Rick was shaking, still afraid of being arrested. 

 

“Relax,” Negan whispered. “It’s just the champagne.”

 

They were face-to-face. Close enough to feel the warmth of one another’s breath. Rick looked up to be met with Negan’s hazel eyes. A beautiful commingling of honey and jade. As he was concentrating on his eyes, Rick noticed him leaning in for a kiss. 

 

The doorbell rang a second time. “Better make myself useful,” Their lips brushed when he spoke. “I’ll get the door.”

 

***

 

Negan handed Rick a flute of champagne. 

 

“Thank you.” Rick swallowed the entire thing at once and grabbed a handful of strawberries. He swiped another handful as Negan was pulling the bowl away. 

 

“You hungry, Rick?” Negan joked.

 

“M’sorry,” he muttered with a mouthful of berries. “I can put some back.”

 

“No,” Negan chuckled. “They’re for you. Champagne, too. I don’t drink.”

 

“You married? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?” Rick asked, striving to make small talk. 

 

“My ex-girlfriend, Lucille, is in New York right now as we speak, moving out of our apartment. What about you? You got a significant other?”

 

Rick swallowed another flute of champagne. “Just an ex-wife. Listen, can we… can we move things along here? I’m kinda on an hourly rate, and we’re down by twenty minutes already. I don't know how long it's gonna take you to, you know, do your thing.” He bit into another berry. “And just so ya know, I'm a sure thing. You don't have to seduce me with champagne and strawberries.”

 

Negan didn't want his time with Rick to be over so soon. He crossed his arms and flashed a smug smile. “How much for the entire night?”

 

Rick coughed, inhaling berry juices into his lungs. “What to… to stay  _ here _ ? All night?”

 

Negan nodded, arms still crossed confidently. 

 

“We talking twenty-four hours or just until morning?”

 

“Let’s say... until morning.”

 

Rick looked at the clock. “Like I said, I’m on an hourly rate.” He smirked after doing some calculating. “You probably couldn’t afford me all night.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“Eight-hundred dollars.”

 

“Done,” Negan said, without missing a beat. “And just so  _ you know,  _ if I wanted to fucking seduce you, I wouldn't need the champagne and strawberries.”


	3. Chapter 3

Rick couldn’t believe his luck. He was up by nine-hundred and fifty dollars and hasn’t had to do a damn thing to get it. _Yet._

 

Hours ago, he didn't have two nickels to rub together. Now, he's got a bellyful of ridiculously expensive champagne and fresh strawberries. Whereas earlier, he was stealing cocktail garnishes from a seedy bar just to get something in his stomach.

 

All the champagne he’d been guzzling was getting to him, in more than one sense. 

 

“Could I use your bathroom?” Rick asked, dancing in place. 

 

“You don't have to ask. This is your room, too.”

 

He excused himself and hurried into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door.

 

While he was emptying his champagne-filled bladder, he used his tongue in an attempt to dislodge the strawberry seeds stuck between his teeth. They wouldn't budge. It was making him crazy just knowing they were there. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. Just as he reached into his pocket, Negan appeared in the doorway. 

 

“Want me to order you some din— ” 

 

Negan's voice startled him. He jerked his hand out of his pocket and shoved it behind his back, looking the part of a cornered mouse. 

 

“The fuck are you hiding behind your back?” 

 

“N-nothing.”

 

Negan grabbed him, painfully wrenching his arm and pulled his hand to the front. Rick’s fist was tightly clenched, concealing the suspicious contents. 

 

“I don't give a fuck what you do in your own goddamn time, but I  _ will not  _ have drugs here,” Negan snapped. 

 

“But it's just — ”

 

“Get your shit and get the fuck outta here! ”

 

“I don't do drugs,” Rick insisted, opening his trembling hand.

 

There in the center of his palm, was a small, travel-size container of cinnamon dental floss. 

 

“St-strawberries.” Rick stuttered. “Seeds in my teeth.”

 

Negan was embarrassed. “Rick, I'm sorry. I just assumed… ”

 

Rick managed to hide the hurt in his eyes before looking up at him. He quickly pulled together a believable, understanding smile. “It's okay. You don't know anything about me. I don't really blame you.”

 

The truth was, he  _ didn’t _ blame him. Negan had a hell of a lot more to lose than he did. He had every right to be upset. He honestly thought Rick had brought drugs into his hotel suite.

 

“Why did you hide it?”

 

Rick shrugged. “I dunno.” 

 

He knew. He was embarrassed. Rick didn’t have much to hold onto anymore. His appearance was one of the few things he still had in his possession.

 

Stepping into Rick's personal space, Negan examined his arm. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“Not really.” 

 

It did hurt, but it scared him more than anything. Daryl had spent the days leading up to tonight telling him countless stories about friends of his who were beaten by their  _ dates _ . A few who didn't make it. 

 

“I really am sorry,” Negan said, looking at the red marks left by his fingers. “Just for a split second, I thought you were — ”

 

“I'm just trying to get by, Negan.” Rick interrupted. His eyes were closed. He didn't want to show the hopelessness hiding behind them. “I'm just trying to pay the rent and eat. That's all.”

  
  


***

 

Rick was sitting cross-legged in the floor eating pizza and a stomach-turning assortment of junk food from the minibar, another form of apology over the dental floss misunderstanding he assumed, while Negan handled several business calls. He was watching  _ Orange Is The New Black, _ laughing hysterically while popping handful after handful of M&Ms into his mouth. Alcohol always made any situation a lot more amusing to Rick, but three quarters of a bottle of bubbly had him in absolute stitches.

 

Negan ended his call, picked up his glasses and opened the newspaper. He watched Rick pull off his boots and socks, scattering his colorful selection of condoms. He stretched out in the floor on his stomach, barefoot and shirtless. Negan peered up over his paper, unable to keep his eyes off of the laughing, half-naked man at his feet. Deserting his newspaper, he got up and moved to the next chair. He wanted a better view of the show taking place in the floor, rather than the one on the screen. 

 

He stared at the dimples on his tanned, lower back, right above his jeans. His eyes were drawn to a sliver of bright blue. He found himself wanting, no, needing to know what kind of underwear he was wearing. In fact, he was picturing what he looked like without the jeans and underwear altogether. 

 

Rick laughed particularly hard at something in the show. He looked over to ask Negan if he heard it, something about _barbeque sauce on tits_ , but caught him staring back at him with an absolute humorless look. Rick’s own laughter faded, his face relaxing into a lazy smile. Negan never took his eyes off of him. His expression never changed. Rick might have been new to the job, but he would recognize that look anywhere.

 

Abandoning his floor picnic, he pulled himself up on his hands and knees, making his way to Negan’s lap in a prowling cat crawl. Testing the waters, he scaled the bare skin under Negan's pant leg with his fingers, going as high as the unforgiving fabric would allow. Negan made no attempt to push him away. Sure that he was ready this time, Rick stood and slipped out of his tight jeans. 

 

Negan’s eyes widened as they roved over those tight bikini briefs. His breath was snatched from his lungs the moment Rick clambered up and sat in his lap. He looked down and looked back up. That pretty blue package resting on top of his crotch was the same shade of sky blue staring into his eyes right now, burning holes into his memory.

 

“I knew it had potential,” Rick said, feeling Negan growing hard beneath him. His smiling lips were inches away from Negan’s mouth. His warm, chocolate scented breath penetrating his nose. “Hmm,” Rick hummed, bouncing slightly. “You got a  _ lot  _ of potential.”

 

Negan kissed him, devouring the taste of his M&M flavored tongue. His hands investigating and roaming over Rick’s toned physique. 

 

“Bedroom,” Negan growled. He wasn’t asking.

 

Rick kissed him again before sliding off. He walked in front of Negan, teasing him by looking over his shoulder and pulling his briefs down just enough to give him sight of an inch or two of bare ass before taking it right back. 

 

Negan stopped at the minibar and picked up the intimacy kit. Rick had condoms, sure, but unless he had lube in his other boot, they would need the kit. What's another thirty-six dollars? 

 

Kicking off his shoes and socks, Negan threw the box on the foot of the bed. He slipped his black and red silk tie off and draped it over Rick's bare shoulders. 

 

“What would you like?” Rick asked, unbuttoning Negan's shirt and running his hands through the dark hair that decorated his chest. "I can do anything you want."

 

It all seemed too rehearsed to Negan. “Why don't you let me take control here?” he offered. “You can have the night off...  _ with pay _ .”

 

Rick took a step back and studied him anxiously. “But you’re paying me to —”

 

“I'm paying you to stay here. For your time. What we do in that time has _nothing_ to do with money.” Negan brushed a rogue curl out of Rick's face. “I don't want whatever fucking routine you've been practicing. Tonight, drop this facade and just be yourself.”

 

Rick searched the hazel eyes in front of him. He knew this wouldn't be the way things happened after tonight. Negan made him feel like a person, not a sexual object. When he walked up to that car window this evening, he was expecting nothing more than to be bouncing up and down on the man's lap in a deserted parking lot. Yet here he was. Standing in the Empire Suite of a posh hotel with a man that wanted his time, not just his body. 

 

Negan shrugged his unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants and boxer briefs. Rick stood there, unapologetically admiring the sight of his body. 

 

He wasn't just tall, he was visibly strong. He wasn’t ripped by any means, but he was long and muscular. His hips appeared narrow in comparison to the broad span of his powerful shoulders. 

 

“You look good in a tie, Rick.” Negan said, stroking his jawline. 

 

Rick looked down at his own near-naked body. “This tie doesn’t match what I’m wearing.”

 

Negan smirked, eyeing his blue bikinis. Inching closer, he slipped a finger into his waistband, stretching out the elastic as his hand moved from side to side, allowing Negan a sneak peek of the prize inside. “You’re right. It doesn’t.” 

 

With one quick tug, Rick’s briefs fell to his ankles.

 

“Now it does,” Negan said, appreciating the view of his stiff, reddened rock-hard length against the contrast of the nearly black tuft of hair it was nestled in.

 

Rick gasped as Negan lifted him off the ground bridal style, carrying him to the plush chaise lounge at the end of the bed. 

 

“You’re strong,” Rick said coyly. “But you missed the bed.”

 

“You’re fucking heavier than you look, Rick. The chair was closer.” 

 

They both burst out into a fit of laughter. Their eyes locked, both completely out of breath. The laughter faded and was replaced with slow-curving carnal smiles. Their hearts pounded. 

 

Negan pulled Rick closer using the silk tie still around his neck. “ _ You _ are fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

 

Rick had no witty comeback this time. His face flushed a deep shade of pink and he attempted to look away. Negan, catching him by the chin with his pointer finger, leaned in to kiss him. 

 

There was something different about this kiss. It wasn’t like the two they had shared in the living room. There was something else there. Something that made Rick’s heart rate double. It was as if there were feelings there. But there couldn’t be. They were strangers. Two ships passing in the night. 

 

Negan was just horny, he thought. Judging by the way he was hungrily kissing him, he’d say he was  _ very  _ horny. Rick put the idea of feelings out of his head. It was ludicrous. He decided to just enjoy this for what it was. Sex. Straight up, unadulterated, no strings attached sex. Negan needed release, and Rick needed to pay his rent.

 

Taking the tie from Rick’s shoulders, Negan blindfolded him. With his sight eliminated, Rick’s other senses were immediately heightened. Every whisper, every touch, was so much more erotic. His body was a whirlpool of sensation and pleasure. Negan’s wet mouth on his neck and nipples. A slick tongue lapping down his stomach and dipping inside his belly button. Fingertips kneading and massaging his hips, thighs and ass. 

 

_ I’m getting paid for this? _

 

All inhibitions were lost when Rick’s legs were parted and his knees pushed up. Warm lips and tongue, swirling and tasting. Strokes as gentle as a moth’s wings. Rick whined, jerking violently against the warmth of his mouth.

 

Negan shushed him with a reassuring hand on his stomach. “Relax.” 

 

He licked and kissed him again and again. “I could eat you like a fucking peach,” Negan growled. But the way Rick's hot and needy muscles quivered and sucked him in, Negan couldn't tell if he was eating Rick or if Rick was eating him. 

 

The animalistic sounds coming deep from Rick’s throat only encouraged Negan further. Using his teeth, he ripped apart the package of lube and worked him open with his fingers. Wet, filthy sounds filling their ears.

 

“Look at you,” Negan purred, eyes locked on Rick’s body as his fingers vanished and reappeared time and time again. “You are fucking flawless.”

 

Rick nodded, accepting his compliments wordlessly, unable to focus on anything other than breathing in and out and the unbelievable pleasure currently traveling through to his body. 

 

Negan removed the blindfold, revealing Rick’s lust-filled blue eyes. “I want you flat on your stomach.” 

 

Rick obeyed, rolling over and stretching his legs out. Negan, covering his own hard length in latex and lube, hovered over the restless body beneath him and started a trail of wet, open-mouth kisses from his tailbone to his neck. 

 

“Give me your hands, Rick.” 

 

He put his hands behind his back without giving it a second thought. Negan wrapped the tie around his wrists tightly. Pulling apart his pliant cheeks, Negan lined his head up with Rick's entrance. His muscles instinctively contracted, denying him access to his passage. 

 

“Please,” Rick mumbled into the chair. 

 

Negan grinned behind him. “If you'd stop tensing up I can give you what you want. Relax. Breathe.”

 

He pushed inside halfway, holding Rick down when he tried to lift himself up. He pulled out completely, sliding back in with less resistance. 

 

Rick's gravel-voiced dirty talk was more than Negan could handle. He reamed him, completely burying himself inside. Rocking them both into oblivion. Rick was unbelievably tight. He knew he wouldn't last long. Two bodies stuck in a continual loop of pleasure. 

 

He soon built up a rhythm of wet, sliding heat. Filling him. Stretching him. Raw masculine pleasure building and building. Rick was holding his breath. Negan could tell he was close. 

 

“You gonna come for me?”

 

When Rick didn't answer, he pulled his arms back, forcing his head and shoulders up, still rocking solidly into his body. 

 

“Are you gonna fucking come for me?”

 

Rick shook his head frantically. “I'm gonna come. I'm gonna — ”

 

His hoarse cry of completion echoed off the walls. Wet, throbbing pulses gumming up the space between his body and the chair. Negan leaned back, hips still pumping, fingers digging into Rick’s soft flesh. He groaned and cursed, unleashing everything he'd been holding back inside the condom.

 

“Holy fucking shit!” He was still pulsing inside Rick.

 

Negan's shaky legs gave out from under him. He landed hard on top of Rick's sweaty body. The impact forced a grunt out of him, but he was too far gone to complain. 

 

***

 

Negan was already in bed when Rick walked out of the bathroom, naked and still damp from his shower. He felt better now that the sticky mess he had made was no longer all over his stomach. He couldn't say the same for the chair. 

 

“Which bedroom should I sleep in?” Rick asked, pointing with his thumb in the direction of the door. “Does it matter or — ”

 

Negan smiled, pulling the sheet back for him to get in beside him. “I _believe_ our agreement was for the entire night.”

 

In spite of his misgivings, Rick went to Negan's bed. It was just sex, right? No feelings other than the physical sense. No commitments. Just two bodies using one another for stimulation and release. 

 

This was no different. It was just sleeping. 

 

If that’s the case, why was Rick feeling such a strong need to be held in Negan’s warm embrace right now? Was it loneliness? Was he looking to feel safe? 

 

Why was Negan on the other side of that same bed, fighting the urge to reach over and pull Rick closer? Even though he found himself surrounded by people of all walks of life daily, Negan was  _ still  _ lonely. 

 

But this… this was just sex. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The room was cool. A lot cooler than he was used to. With only a thin, white sheet covering him, Rick tossed and turned in his sleep, seeking warmth. When he found it, he encased himself in it. 

 

“You comfy?” Negan asked laughing, causing Rick to wake up with a start. 

 

Negan didn't seem to be too bothered having been woken up at two in the morning by a naked man with his arms and legs wrapped around him. 

 

Rick attempted to move away. Erotic sensations surged through his body when he felt his sensitive, silky flesh brush against Negan's hidden under the sheet. Negan felt it, too. Rick could feel his heart pounding against his own. Nerve endings awaiting with frantic anticipation for more movement. Yet they lay motionless in each other’s grip, breathing harder with every passing second. 

 

Soft, dormant flesh turned to solid steel in a matter of seconds. The decision to act was silent but unanimous. Both bodies began to move in unison. Ebbing and flowing. Pulling apart and pushing together. Skin against skin. Every thrust more pleasurable than the last. Slow and steady they rocked, letting the sensation build. 

 

Negan couldn't keep his hands off Rick's body, remembering what a piece of work it was in the light of day. His hand travelled up and down the slopes and valleys of his ass and leg. 

 

Rick went from purring like a wildcat to growling like a wild dog as their hips pumped with more purpose. Grunts and groans filling the dark space they shared. Rhythmically hammering their bodies together, desperate to reach the peak. 

 

When it came, Rick’s breathing shortened to gasps. Negan had latched onto his neck with his teeth and tongue, biting and sucking hard enough to taste blood. Rick's fingernails dug deep into Negan's back. Come morning, they both knew they would be marked with wounds of passion, if not permanently scarred. 

 

“Where the fuck did that come from?” Negan asked, still holding onto Rick, both of them trying to catch their breath.

 

Rick puffed out a warm breathy laugh against Negan's chest. “I was cold.”

 

Negan felt around on the nightstand in search of the remnants of the intimacy kit. He found the moist towelettes and cleaned up the mess they had made together on their stomachs and softening cocks. 

 

Once clean, Rick released a long, satisfied yawn and rolled over, curling up to go back to sleep. He sighed when Negan's warm body pressed against his and a strong arm wrapped around his waist.

 

“Let me keep you warm.” Negan pulled the sheet up over both of them and, without thinking, he placed a gentle kiss against Rick's back.

 

He thought, even though they’d basically had sex twice now, that the kiss might have been a little  _ too  _ intimate. That is, until he felt Rick’s cold fingers curl around his arm. 

 

***

 

Rick woke up alone in the oversized bed. He looked around, momentarily confused. He remembered where he was when he heard the doorbell followed by Negan’s unmistakable booming voice. He slipped the plush white robe that was hanging in the bathroom over his bare body before heading out to find Negan. 

 

“Morning,” Rick said, stumbling into the living room, scratching his head.

 

Negan was at the table, wearing an identical white robe, doing business from his laptop. “Good morning.”

 

“You didn’t wake me up.” Rick stood behind him awkwardly, unsure of what to do. “Looks like you’re really busy. I’ll get dressed and get outta here so you can work.

 

“No hurry, Rick.” Negan stood up, offering Rick a seat at the table. “You hungry? You  _ must  _ be,” he winked. “I didn’t know what you liked to eat so I just ordered everything on the menu.”

 

Rick’s mouth watered as Negan pulled the silver domes off of the trays. He eagerly grabbed a croissant and walked out on the balcony.

 

“Did you sleep well?” Negan asked while going over some paperwork.

 

“Yeah,” Rick answered with a mouthful of flaky bread. “I slept so good, I forgot where I was.”

 

“Goes with the job,” Negan joked. “An occupational hazard, if you will.” They both laughed.

 

Rick came back inside and sat on the edge of the table to eat, rumpling some of Negan’s important papers and nearly tipping over a plate of bacon and eggs. “Did you sleep okay?”

 

Negan looked down at the wrinkled papers under Rick. “I slept a few hours. Had work to do.”

 

“You don’t drink, you don’t eat, you barely sleep. What  _ do  _ you do, Negan?”

 

“You know, there are five other chairs here. Do you have to sit  _ on  _ the table?” 

 

“Sorry.” Rick moved to the chair closest to Negan with his feet up in the seat. “So tell me, what do you do? I’m curious.” 

 

Negan watched him, laughing internally as he picked at the plate of pancakes with his fingers. “I buy companies. There is silverware right in fucking front of you, Rick.”

 

Rick ignored the silverware comment and licked his fingers. “What kind of companies?”

 

“I buy companies that are in financial difficulty.” 

 

“If they have money problems,” Rick continued to press. “I bet you get ‘em real cheap, huh?”

 

Rick meant no harm in using the word, but Negan didn’t appreciate the term  cheap . 

 

“Well, the company I’m here to buy this week I’m getting for the  _ cheap  _ price of about... one billion dollars.”

 

Rick stopped chewing. “A billion?  _ Dollars _ ?”

 

“Yeah.”

  
  
“You must be really smart. I bet your family is proud of you. Mine ain’t. I’m just a has-been in their eyes.”

 

“If you’re a has-been, Rick, you must have been something before. What was it?”

 

“I was a police officer.” He breathed out heavily. “Until I fucked everything up.” 

 

Rick, no longer hungry, dropped his pancake and pushed the plates away. He wasn’t jealous of Negan, not exactly. He was certain he had worked hard to get to where he was in life. But he wondered how  _ his  _ life would have turned out if he hadn’t let his father coerce him into joining the police academy. If he hadn’t met Lori and settled down so damn quickly. Could he have been in Negan’s shoes by now if he had challenged himself a little more? 

 

Maybe if he hadn't screwed around on his wife. Maybe if she hadn't cheated on him with one of his co-workers. Rick had too many what-ifs floating about in his head. He looked around the room. It was so nice. He cringed at the idea of going back to his shitty apartment. 

 

***

 

Negan was dressing for the day, wrestling with his tie when Rick walked in and sat on the vanity he was using. He was still curious about what kind of work his job consisted of.

 

“You don’t actually  _ have  _ a billion dollars to lay out just like that, do ya?”

 

“No. I get some of it through banks and investors.”

 

“And you don’t  _ make  _ anything, and you don’t  _ build  _ anything?” Rick asked, thinking that’s what business was all about. Productivity. 

 

“No.”

 

“Well, what do you do with these companies once you buy ‘em?”

 

“I sell them. Well, I break them up in smaller pieces and sell them for a huge profit.” He angrily jerked at his still untied tie. “Goddamn this fucking thing!”

 

Rick jumped up and moved Negan’s hands out of the way. “Let me do that.” His tongue darted out as his hands worked. “So basically, it's like stealing cars and selling ‘em for the parts?”

 

Negan sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “Well, sort of.  _ But legally _ . My job isn’t as easy as it sounds, Rick. It’s complicated. Very stressful.”

 

Negan looked down at his perfectly tied tie. Rick looked up to meet his eyes. “Doesn’t sound easy to me at all. I think you work really hard. As successful as you are, I’m sure of it.”

 

Negan’s lips curled into a smile. He knew he worked hard, but it felt good hearing someone actually acknowledge it. Very few people surprised him anymore. Rick, in the short amount of time he had known him, has done just that more times than he could count.

 

“Where did you learn to tie a tie so well?” Negan asked, looking in the mirror.

 

“Oh, I fucked the debate team in high school. I got a  _ lot  _ of practice.”

 

Negan turned and looked at him. “What did I say about just being yourself?”

 

His false cocky smile dropped off. “I had a grandpa,” Rick laughed faintly, helping Negan into his suit jacket. “He was nice to me. He wore ties on Sunday. I helped him.”

 

Negan smiled. “Now that’s better. I like that answer, Rick.”

 

“Mind if I go for a swim in that huge tub before I leave? My place doesn’t have hot water.”

 

“Of course.” Negan ran his fingers through Rick's bed hair. “I’ll probably be gone when you get out. I’ll leave your money on the table.”

 

“Thank you for everything, Negan.” 

 

Negan was already missing that southern accent and dulcet tone of his. 

 

“This was nice. I’m glad I got lost. I enjoyed the fuck out of your company, Rick. You take care of yourself, okay?”

 

“You, too.” He mulled the idea over in his head for a moment before leaning in and placing a quick kiss on Negan’s cheek. “Bye.”

 

Rick looked back at Negan before closing the bathroom door. He felt a pang in his heart, knowing it would be the last time he saw him. He had been the first person to treat him decent in a very long time.

 

Negan placed eight crisp one-hundred dollar bills on the table and listened to the water as it filled the tub. He sighed. He didn't know Rick, other than what he'd learned in the last eight or nine hours they've spent together, but he knew he would never forget him. 

 

On his way out the door, Negan’s phone rang. It was his business partner/advisor/best friend, Simon. He had flown down to Georgia two days ahead of him.

 

“Hello.”

 

“Negan, listen it’s Simon, I’m running out the door. Just wanted to let you know that the meeting is all set for tonight with Mr. Greene.”

 

“Fantastic.”

 

“Look, I gotta say this again. I don’t like the idea of you going to this thing alone. I just think it would look better for everyone if you went with a date. You know? Keep it social.”

 

Rick had left the bathroom door cracked. He thought he was alone. He was singing, loudly and slightly out of tune. Negan walked in to see Rick lying back in the tub full of bubbles, swaying his head from side to side to the music with his eyes closed.

 

“Negan? You still there? Hello?”

 

“I’m still here, Simon. I heard you.”

 

_ Oh won't you _

_ Stay with me  _

_ ‘Cause you're _

_ All I need  _

_ This ain't love  _

_ It's clear to see  _

_ But darlin’ _

_ Stay with me  _

  
  


Negan wanted to laugh at his off-key singing, but something about the lyrics he sang, and the way he sang them affected him. He wondered, briefly, if he was singing about him.

 

“What the fuck is  _ that _ ?” Simon asked.

 

“Uh,” Negan hesitated. “House… housekeeping is singing.”

 

“Wow. Okay, so what were we talking about? Dates. Right. Listen I know a lot of nice girls down here in Georgia.”   
  
“No you don’t,” Negan laughed, staring into the bathtub. “Besides, I already have a date.”

 

***

 

“Hey.” Negan whispered, putting a hand on his sud-covered shoulder. 

 

Rick jumped, nearly knocking his phone into the soapy bath water. He couldn’t afford phone service but it did have all of his favorite music saved on it. His tint of embarrassment seemed to go beyond the level of the water. He took his earbuds out. 

 

“Don’t you knock? I’m taking a bath here?”

 

Negan rolled his eyes. He’d seen him naked, up close and personal, just a handful of hours ago. “Rick, I have a business proposition for you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’m going to be here until Sunday. I need an escort,  _ a date _ , if you will, for several social occasions. My proposition is, would you spend the week with me.”

 

The smile spreading on Rick’s face was growing by the second. “Really?”

 

“Yes, really. I’d like to hire you as an employee.”

 

Rick continued to smile, playing with the suds on top of the water.

 

“So, how about it? Would you consider… spending the week with me?”

 

Rick laughed nervously. He wasn’t quite sure if he serious or joking.

 

“I will pay you to be at my beck and call,” Negan offered.

 

“Look, I would love to be your beck and call boy, but you’re an incredibly good looking, rich man. You could get anyone you wanted to go on countless dates with you. For free.”

 

“I know I could get any fucking body, Rick. But I  _ want you _ .”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I want a fucking professional. You've got that killer smile. A man with my money is required to have arm candy at these functions. Just protocol.”

 

Rick huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “If we’re talking 24/7, it’s gonna cost ya.”

 

“That's what I'm talking about. You're a ruthless businessman, Rick. Straight to the goddamn point. Well, give me a fucking ballpark figure then. I’m serious. How much?”

 

“Ten-thousand dollars.” He cringed and waited for Negan to explode at his bold offer.

 

“Deal, and that’s one hell of a fucking bargain.”

 

“Holy shit! Ten-thousand dollars!” Rick let his head sink under the bath water.

 

“Rick!” Negan hovered over the soapy water, trying to look through the thick suds. “Rick is that a yes? I need a fucking answer here.”

 

He came back up, soap covering his head and face. “Yes! It’s a yes!”


	5. Chapter 5

_Ten-thousand dollars._ Rick had nearly convinced himself that he was stuck in some sort of dream. A cruel joke fucking with his ability to tell the difference between real and fantasy. Had he made the entire night up in his head?

 

Yes. That was it. He was going to wake up any moment and none of this would be real. Daryl would walk in and he'd be right back in that hellhole he called home. There would be no Negan. No money. No proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

 

But Negan _was_ there. He had knelt down beside him with a clean, white towel. Rick watched him through stinging, bloodshot eyes as he gently wiped his face free of the irritating soap suds. He found comfort in his face where others only saw an acrimonious businessman. Those hard lines and that scowl might intimidate everyone else, but Rick could see the compassion and generosity.

 

Rick wondered if this money was the lucky break he’s been waiting for. He could get himself a decent place to live, find a real job and become self-sufficient. He didn’t like the idea of just ditching Daryl, but how far could he get with this current lifestyle? Would he even survive it at all? Honestly, he didn’t want to find out.

 

“Come on out.” Negan held out the white robe for Rick as he stepped out of the tub. “I’ve got to get going.”

 

“I forgot what a hot bath felt like,” Rick breathed contently, allowing himself to be wrapped up in the soft comfort.

 

“These meetings shouldn’t take too long. We can do lunch when I get back.” He pulled his wallet out and gave Rick a stack of cash. “I want you to go buy yourself some new clothes.”

 

Rick looked at the large sum of money in his hand and looked back up at Negan. He hadn’t counted it, but he figured it had to be close to a few thousand, if not more.

 

What did he expect him to buy, exactly? The most he'd ever spent on a single outfit was two-hundred and fifty dollars, and _that_ was for his wedding day. What was so special about going out to dinner with strangers?

 

“We'll be going out during the evenings. You’ll need something nice to wear.”

 

“Like what?” Rick asked, following Negan around like a shadow. “New jeans?”

 

Negan turned and gave him one of his _are you fucking serious right now_ looks that Rick had grown quite accustomed to since last night.

 

Negan was so used to his extravagant lifestyle, he found it easy to forget that most people didn’t live in the same luxury that he enjoyed. He quickly rearranged his face into a more understanding look.

 

“Well you can certainly buy some new jeans, Rick, but I meant more along the lines of suits and ties for going out. I want my date to look nice.”

 

Rick winced at the idea of walking around in a monkey suit all day. Rubbing his neck, he could already feel the choking sensation a tie would give him. That choking feeling seemed to vanish when Rick reeled in on Negan's choice of words. _My date._ He suddenly felt as if his entire 5’10” frame was floating in midair.

 

“Nothing too flashy,” Negan continued. “Something conservative. Traditional.”

 

“You mean boring?”

 

“Are you trying to tell me I look fucking _boring_ , Rick?”

 

Rick’s heart leapt up into his throat, instantly regretting his poor choice of words. “N-no. I think _you_ look nice. But it doesn’t mean I will.”

 

Negan ran a finger over Rick’s knuckles. “I’ve already seen you in a tie, remember? You looked pretty fucking good to me.”

 

Rick smiled at the ground.  

 

“Don’t worry. I know you’ll look incredible. Now, don’t forget about shoes, socks, undershirts and underwear. Shit, some more of those pretty little man panties you had on would be nice. Not so much for the evenings out, but it damn sure would make the nights in a hell of a lot more fun.”

 

Rick’s feet were once again off the ground again. Negan’s ability to excite him sexually without laying a hand on him astounded him every time.

 

“Any questions?” Negan asked picking up his briefcase.

 

“No questions, but I do have a confession.”

 

“What’s that?”  


“I would’ve stayed for five-thousand,” Rick smiled broadly.

 

Negan nuzzled his scuff against his neck. “Yeah? Guess what. I would’ve fucking paid twenty.”

 

The sexy whispers in his ear made him shudder.

 

“I’ll see you this afternoon, Rick.”

 

Rick stopped and leaned up against the wall. “I’m gonna look so good, you’re never gonna wanna let me go.”

 

“One week, ten-thousand dollars, and I _will_ let you go.” Negan winked as he closed the door behind him.

 

“But I’m here now,” Rick whispered to himself, alone in the huge hotel room.

 

He pulled the bundle of money out of his robe pocket and wondered where he should go for his new clothes. Maybe Daryl could give him some ideas. Daryl. Shit! He forgot about the rent. He hopped in the middle of the still unmade bed and grabbed the phone off the nightstand, hoping _their_ phone hadn’t been disconnected yet.

 

Twelve rings later, a very groggy, hungover-sounding Daryl finally answered.

 

“Daryl. You’re not gonna believe this.”

 

“Hey man, I thought Camaro Man kidnapped you or something. What the fuck happened to you? You coulda picked up a goddamn phone to — ”

 

“Shut up and listen! He paid me to spend the night with him.”

 

“You spent the night? With _him_?”

 

“Yes. His name is Negan. I’m in his hotel room right now. The Empire Suite! The bathroom is bigger than our apartment. He wants me to spend the whole fucking week with him!”

 

“Nah. You ain’t doing that. That don’t sound right to me.”

 

“Why not? He’s good to me, Daryl. _Real good_. I ain’t never been fucked so — ”

 

Daryl groaned loudly into the phone to drown out Rick’s words. “Spare me the details, man. It just don’t seem legit. Don’t sound kosher.”

 

“He’s paying me ten-thousand dollars, Daryl.”

  
  
“Bullshit! You fucking serious?”

 

“Dead serious. He’s already given me a ton of cash this morning to go shopping. Wants me to look nice for our _dates_.

 

“Dates? I dunno, man. It just don't… ” Daryl sighed. “Did he pay you yet?”

  
  
“End of the week.”

 

“There it is then, brother. He’s gonna fuck you over, I know it. Happens all the goddamn time.”

 

“I think you’re wrong. I trust him. He’s already paid me for last night. _Eight-hundred_ dollars.”

 

“Son of a bitch! I gave that guy to you. Please tell me he’s ugly. Sweaty and smelly? Beer gut? Gimme something.”

 

“God, no. He’s gorgeous. Everything about him is gorgeous.”

 

“Well, keep in touch so I know that you’re okay, man.”

 

“I’ll be fine. And Daryl, I’m gonna leave some money for you at the front desk. Pay the rest of the rent as soon as you pick it up. I’ll leave enough for you to party, but _pay the rent._ ”

 

***

 

The jacket from yesterday’s suit was lying folded over one of the chairs. Rick let his robe fall to the floor and slipped it on. It felt nice against his bare skin and it smelled like Negan. Warm and spicy with a hint of vanilla. It was absolutely intoxicating. Rick faced the mirror, but refused to open his eyes at first to look at himself, afraid of what he might see. Maybe he would hate it. Maybe he would like it.

 

He swallowed his fear and gave himself a quick once-over. Much to his surprise, he didn’t think he looked too bad. Granted, he was naked from the waist down, but he was beginning to think he might be able to pull this look off. He couldn’t remember the last time he managed to impress anyone, but Negan seemed to be happy with whatever it was he had to offer. For now, that was good enough for him.

 

After Rick found a new toothbrush and helped himself to a spritz or two of Negan’s cologne and the use of his deodorant, he dressed himself in the same clothes he had taken off last night. He ran Negan’s brush through his damp hair and threw on his battered boots.

 

After stuffing four, one-hundred dollar bills inside an envelope, he scribbled Daryl’s name on it and licked the seal. Once he figured out that he had to scan the card key instead of swiping it, he dropped the money off at the front desk, ordering the lady not to open it, and was on his way.

 

Rick was excited and walked with gusto to the high-end men’s shops. He couldn't wait. He finally had enough cash in his pocket to buy anything he wanted. There was a bounce in his step. He was really looking forward to being waited on and greeted by the sales representatives.

 

It never happened. Instead, he was greeted with side-eyed stares and harsh whispers behind his back.

 

“My, my, my,” he overheard the man say. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

 

“More like what the cat coughed up,” the lady beside him whispered, complete with a simulated gagging gesture.

 

Rick choked his hurt and a large portion of his pride down and decided to let them know he was there to make a purchase.

 

“Good morning. I’m interested in purchasing some suits and maybe some —”

 

“We have nothing here for you. We’re fresh out of safety pins.” They both laughed at him as they looked down at his pinned jeans.

 

Rick stood there in disbelief. They couldn’t really refuse his business. Could they? Why would they? Money is money, even if it comes from the pocket of a pair of torn jeans. Kids walk around everyday with torn jeans. It’s called street style. Distressed denim.

 

“Maybe you have someone else here that can help me?”

 

“We could call the dog catcher if you would like.” The lady pointed to the bite on his neck. “Get you checked for rabies. Would you like that?”

 

Instead of their words being hurtful now, they were only making him angry. Rick bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something he would regret and walked over to a rack of suits. “How much is this one?”

 

The scrawny man jumped in front of him as he reached his hand out to feel one of the suits. “I don’t think this will fit you.”

 

Rick released an exasperated breath that he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. “ _Well_ . I didn’t ask you if it would _fit_ . I asked you how much it _was_.”

 

“How much is it, Stacey?” he asked his coworker with a mocking tone.

  
  
“It’s very expensive, Michael.”

 

He turned back to Rick, who was now shaking with anger. “Stacey says it’s _very expensive_.”

 

Rick was reaching his boiling point. “Look,” he hissed through tightly clenched teeth. “I’ve got money to spend in here. I need to buy some goddamn clothes. Why is that such a fucking problem?”

 

He watched as the lady step behind the sales counter, reach down for something, then walk back to the suit rack. She kept her right hand concealed behind her back as she stepped in front of him. Rick swallowed hard, unsure if she had pulled a weapon and meant to use it on him or if it was just some bullshit scare tactic. The two of them barricaded themselves between Rick and the clothes.

 

Rick’s stubbornness was getting the best of him. He knew he should just let it go before he got himself hurt. There was an abundance of other stores on Peachtree. He should just be the bigger man and leave.

 

But instead, he stood his ground and stared both of the sales reps down. Why should he leave? He hasn’t done anything wrong. He came into the store looking to make an honest-to-god purchase.

 

“We don’t have anything for you here,” the male representative said. “You’re obviously in the wrong place. _Please leave_.”

 

“I don’t give two fucks what you—”

 

Without warning, Rick was blasted in the face with something wet. It happened so fast, he thought she had sprayed him with water, like a disobedient cat. That is, until the searing pain sent him to the floor where he rolled and screamed in agony. His eyes, nose, throat and lungs were on fire. He couldn’t take a deep breath or open his eyes.

 

“What —  the fuck —  did you— ” he coughed and gagged, still trying to open his eyes.

 

When the taste hit the back of his throat, he realized he had been pepper sprayed. It was stronger than anything he remembered on the force. He had been used in a demonstration twice and this was far more potent. The tears flowed down his face. His nose was dripping and he couldn’t control the drool pouring from his mouth.

 

“He’s making a mess, Michael. Get him outside.”

 

Rick, unstable and unable to defend himself, was ushered through the door and shoved down on the sidewalk. He lay there, bleeding from a large abrasion on his elbow. He scooted in a seated position until his back was against what he assumed was a wall.

 

His ears picked up on the noises around him. The sidewalk was alive with people. The sounds of shoes connecting with concrete, coming and going. Yet, not a single person stopped to help him. No one acknowledged he was there at all.

 

***

 

It took forty-five minutes for his vision to right itself enough for Rick to see well enough to find his way back to the hotel. He could hear the phone ringing outside the door.

 

“Hello?” Rick sniffed, his voice still a little shaky.

 

“Rick?” Negan thought he heard something off in his voice. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Rick lied coolly. “Just walked in. I'm… I’m out of breath.” He couldn’t bring himself to tell him what happened.

 

“Listen, I’ve only got a second before I have to get back to this fucking meeting. Something's come up and I’ll be gone all day. Be dressed and ready to go at seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up in the lounge. Can’t wait to see how gorgeous you look.”

 

_Shit._

 

Rick was definitely still feeling the effects of the pepper spray. Now he had to go _back_ out there and be faced with more of the same shitty treatment as before? To be ranked by others who felt he was beneath them.

 

***

 

“So,” Simon said after the meeting ended. “You said you had a date for the week. Tell me about her. Is she hot?”

 

“ _He_ is very hot.”

 

Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. I… I… ”

 

“It’s okay, Simon. I have no fucking problem telling you that I’m bi.”

 

Simon seemed to be uncomfortable but nodded anyway.

 

“Rick is fun,” Negan went on. “And, like I said, _hot_ . He’s got these eyes. Goddamn, they’re _so_ blue. I close my eyes, Simon, and I still see them. And believe me when I say, _the best_ sex I've ever had in my life happened in that hotel suite.”

 

Simon laughed uncomfortably. “What does he do? How did you two meet?”

 

Negan didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to answer that? He couldn’t just come out and tell him he’s a prostitute. Maybe he could lie. Tell him they met through mutual friends.

 

“Excuse me, sir.” The secretary interrupted. “There’s a phone call for you, Simon.”

 

Negan took this opportunity to leave and avoided the question altogether. He knew, though, that wouldn’t be the end of it. The subject was bound to come up again, sooner or later.


	6. Chapter 6

Negan jumped into the back of the limo, taking his frustrations out on Jerry, his chauffeur. “I’m fucking late. Get me to the hotel now and don’t do any goddamn thing to fuck it up.”

 

Forcing his tense shoulders back into the leather seat, he pictured Rick sitting by himself in the lounge, most likely thinking he’d been stood up. Maybe he had already given up and went back to the room.

 

What about Hershel Greene? The older business tycoon he was supposed to be meeting in forty minutes? That situation was already volatile. Negan’s plans to buy out his forty-year-old failing military shipbuilding company had angered a lot of people.

 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d found out during the meeting that Mr. Greene would be accompanied by his daughter. Word had gotten around that she was more cutthroat than her father. Negan needed to be there on time. He cursed the chauffeur again, somehow thinking that would clear the traffic in front of them.

 

It was 7:20 pm when the limo pulled up to the front of the hotel. Negan rushed into the lounge looking in all directions. His expression was that of panic as his eyes surveyed every person in the room and Rick was nowhere to be seen. He had given up on him, he thought. He would have no choice but to show up to this business dinner alone.

 

Rick, who was leaning against the bar backwards sipping his way through a Diet Coke, had watched Negan look directly at him three times without recognizing him. He was close enough to him that Rick could smell his cologne and his eyes still looked right past him.

 

Negan’s shoulders dropped in disappointment and he turned to leave. Rick decided to have pity on the man even though he had kept him waiting for nearly half an hour.

 

“Hey sugar,” he said, recycling his very first words to Negan. “You looking for a date?” Rick’s smile stood out even more in contrast to the vivid color of his suit.

 

Everything around Negan, including time itself, seemed to move in slow motion when he realized the breathtakingly beautiful man leaning casually against the bar on his elbow _was his date_.

 

“Rick. You look—”

 

He looked incredible. The suit was cobalt blue, sharp-looking and fit him very well. Rick couldn’t believe he’d dropped seven-hundred dollars of Negan’s money in one store and still had only two changes of clothes. The suit he was wearing, plus his ripped jeans and tank top.

 

“You’re late,” Rick frowned.

 

“Goddamn,” Negan whispered. “You look fucking incredible.”

 

Rick laughed sheepishly and graciously accepted his profanity-laced compliment. “You're forgiven.”

 

Negan held out his arm. “Shall we go to dinner?”

 

The two of them walked out of the lounge and out of the hotel arm-in-arm, paying no mind whatsoever to the contemptuous stares they received as they went. Negan only seeing Rick, and Rick only seeing Negan.

 

***

 

Rick kept shifting and twisting in his seat in the limo and fidgeting with his jacket. When he started cracking his knuckles and biting his nails, Negan took notice.

 

“What the hell is the matter with you, Rick? It’s just fucking dinner as far as you’re concerned.”

 

“I’m nervous. What if… what if I screw everything up? For you?”

 

“I should be the one who’s nervous,” Negan laughed. “What could you possibly screw up?”

 

Rick wasn’t familiar with fine dining. He was a pizza and taco, wiping-his-mouth-on-the-back-of-his-hand kind of guy. He ate with his fingers. He spilled on his shirt. He never had to think about that before. He was afraid he would embarrass Negan. Embarrass himself.

 

“Rick?”

 

“All the forks,” Rick said finally with a heavy sigh. “How will I know which one to use?”

 

Negan smiled. “If that’s your biggest worry, you’ll do fine.”

 

***

 

Somehow, they had managed to make it to the restaurant with minutes to spare.

 

“Right this way, sir. Your party is waiting.”

 

They were led through the crowded dining room. The light sounds of indistinct chatter, silverware clinking against plates and soft piano music filled the room.

 

“Negan, I presume.” Hershel stood to shake his hand. “I’m Hershel Greene. Good to finally meet you. This beautiful little fireball right here is my daughter, Maggie Rhee.”

 

Negan thought the rumors about Mr. Greene’s daughter must have been just that. Rumors. She seemed like a very pleasant person.

 

“ _Maggie_ .” Negan shook her hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you. And this… this is Rick Grimes. One of my _best_ employees... and worth every penny.”

 

Rick imagined his cheeks were glowing bright. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. They were all caught up in a friendly conversation that Rick didn’t know how to participate in. Sure, they were speaking kindly to one another, but he couldn’t help but sense the latent hostility between them.

 

Negan took the liberty of ordering for everyone. When the appetizers arrived, Rick’s fork dilemma began.

 

“Negan,” Maggie said. “My father believes that the people who create a company should control its destiny.”

 

“Where’s the salad?” Rick whispered to Negan, interrupting the business discussion.

 

“The salad comes at the end of the meal, Rick.”

 

“That’s the only fork I know.” He was embarrassing himself, and Negan as well, he feared.

 

Maggie’s expression had changed. He could see she was getting agitated. “Let me put this another way,” she said. “Between your public statements and the rumors floating around on this deal, we’re finding it very hard to figure out what your _real_ intentions are.”

 

Negan breathed deeply, trying to keep his composure.

 

“I don’t know about you,” Hershel said, bringing Maggie's business talk to a halt once more. “But I’ve never been able to figure out which fork to use with what, either.”

 

Rick smiled warmly as Hershel picked up his crostini with pâté and ate it with his hands, inviting him to do the same.

 

Maggie attempted, again, to carry on with the meeting. “There was a time when my daddy’s company built ships the size of cities. Men like him made this country what it is today.”

 

***

 

Rick pulled a face when the next course was placed in front of him. “Who ordered _this_?”

 

“These are escargot,” Negan answered. “That’s French for snails. It’s a delicacy. Just try one.”

 

He picked up the tongs, trying to figure out how they worked while Maggie continued.

 

“Negan, if you were to get control, and I _don’t think_ you will, but _if you did_ , what do you plan to do with my father’s company?”

 

Negan held up _his_ tongs, inconspicuously showing Rick how to use them. “Well, Mrs. Rhee, I will break it up and sell off the pieces.” He showed Rick, using his cocktail fork, how to dig the snail out of its shell.

 

“Negan,” Hershel said. “I’m sure you understand that I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of you turning forty years of my hard work into your garage sale.”

 

Voices were raised and tensions were sparking between Negan, Hershel and Maggie.

 

“With all due respect, Mr. Greene,” Negan said. “At the price I’m paying for this stock, I’m about to make you a very rich man.”

 

“I’m rich enough!” Hershel declared, slamming his hand down on the table. “I just want to head my shipyard.”

 

Rick was still trying to get the hang of his snail tongs as he listened to Negan argue back and forth with his dinner guests. Just as he figured it out and dug into the meat with his tiny fork, the snail slipped from the tongs, flying by Negan's head and landing on the table behind him.

 

His little gastropod mishap seemed to lighten the mood for everyone, even if it was only momentarily. Even a very upset Maggie snickered behind her hand.

 

“Slippery little suckers,” Rick said, pushing his plate away and folding his hands in his lap.

 

Rick wished the dinner would end. He found everything about it incredibly boring. He knew nothing of the shipyard in question, other than the fact that it would cost Negan a billion dollars.

 

The table was presented with a palette cleanser before the next course. A single scoop of mint sorbet. Rick, not knowing any better, picked up the mint leaf garnish and bit into it. He immediately wished he hadn't. He spit it into his hand, dropping it under the table and prayed no one witnessed it.

 

“I met your father,” Hershel said. “ What's his name?”

 

“Robert,” Negan replied.

 

“That's right. Robert. He's not quite the pompous asshole everybody says he is.”

 

“No,” Negan said smugly. “ _I_ have the franchise on being the asshole in my family.”

 

Hershel leaned back against his chair. “Does that make him proud of you?”

 

Negan's demeanor changed. “I doubt it. It doesn't really matter now. He passed away.”

 

Hershel seemed to be brought back to reality with that statement. “I hadn't heard. I'm sorry.”

 

Rick stopped eating the sorbet and looked sorrowfully at Negan. “I'm sorry, too.”

 

“Mr. Greene.” Negan was growing restless. “You asked for this meeting. What the hell do you want from me?”

 

Hershel wasted no time. “I want you to leave my company alone!”

 

“I can't do that,” Negan responded. “I have too goddamn much invested. Ten million shares to be precise.”

 

“Let me buy you out,” Hershel suggested. “I'll buy your stock back.”

 

Negan scoffed. “Come on, Mr. Greene. We both know you can't afford that. I mean, that _is_ why we're here, right? You're fucking broke.”

 

“Now you wait a minute,” Maggie said. “We've got a contract to build ten destroyers. We will have the money as soon as that's complete.”

 

“There will be no contract,” Negan argued, matter-of-factly. “That contract is now buried in Appropriations Committee, and it _will_ remain there.”

 

“How the hell did you pull something like that out of your ass?” Maggie demanded. “What, do you… you got dirty politicians in your pockets now?”

 

Rick's wide eyes bounced between Negan, Maggie and Hershel, waiting and watching for actual punches to be thrown. Other guests were starting to take notice as well.

 

“Easy, easy, easy,” Hershel said, attempting to get control of the situation before things _did_ escalate further. “Everyone just calm down. I think it's easy to see that Negan here plays hardball.”

 

Negan had no problem admitting he would go for the jugular to get something he wanted. Sometimes he had to be unpleasant. He knew his business destroyed lives. That's how he made his money. If he had to be unfair or hurt someone in the process, he would absolutely do it.

 

Maggie threw her napkin on the table. “I've heard enough of this shit. Rick, it was a great pleasure meeting you. I'm sorry, Daddy, I can't be here anymore. I'll see you outside.”

 

“I’d better go with my daughter,” Hershel said, throwing his napkin as well. “You two enjoy your dinner. I'm sure it'll be delicious. Good luck to you, Rick, working for this man.”

 

Negan was gracious enough to stand as Hershel made his way around the table.

 

“Watch yourself, Negan.” Hershel whispered. “I'm going to tear you apart.”

 

Negan laughed in his face. “I'm fucking looking forward to it, sir.”

 

Hershel glared at Negan before storming off.

 

“Fucking rich people.” Negan joked, sitting back down. “They sure like to throw their napkins, don't they? “

 

“He seems like a nice man,” Rick said. “I like him. He reminds me of my grandpa.”

 

Negan scoffed. “I bet you see good in everyone, don't you Rick?”

 

“Not everyone,” he whispered, remembering the events from earlier. His eyes still burned.

 

The main course was brought to their table.

 

“It's just the two of us now,” Negan informed the waiters. “Thank you.”

 

Rick gasped looking at his entree. “ _Steak_. Yum. I haven't had a steak in ages.”

 

He looked over the table. “Is there any ketchup?”

 

Negan stared at him. “Ketchup? On a Filet Mignon? Are you fucking — ”

 

“Oh!” Rick shoved his hand inside his pocket. “You know me, always prepared.”

 

He had produced a single McDonald's ketchup packet from his suit pants.

 

Negan smiled, watching him use his fingers to cover a sixty dollar cut of beef with ketchup he fished out of his pocket. He didn't even bother to ask how the ketchup packet found its way into his pants. It reminded Negan of his condom-filled boot.

 

Rick was smiling, too, until he looked up to see everyone in the restaurant, including the waiters,  staring at him in disgust for sucking his ketchup-covered fingers.

 

He dropped his head. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, keeping his eyes down.

 

“You don't have anything to be sorry for, Rick. You're fucking adorable. Don't worry about what these pretentious assholes think. Come on, eat your steak.”

 

***

 

Rick was quiet for the entire ride back to the hotel, thinking about Hershel Greene. He had no idea Negan's business was _this_ complicated. He didn’t know Negan could be so aggressive. How could anyone destroy someone’s enterprise, their livelihood, and not feel the least bit guilty for it? Maybe he did. Maybe he just hid it very well. Maybe this was the stressful part he was talking about.

 

Rick wasn’t the only one not talking. Negan had a certain _look_ about him. It wasn’t anger or displeasure. It was something different altogether. He looked as if he had lost something.

 

***

 

Back at the hotel, Rick kicked his shoes and socks off and stripped his suit down to a more comfortable level. He was worried about Negan and wanted to talk to him. But he would have to find him first.

 

“Negan?” He wasn’t in either of the bedrooms. “You in there?” He wasn’t in the bathroom. “ _Negan_?”

 

Where the hell could he be? He knew he was upset, but he wouldn’t just leave without telling him, would he? Rick noticed that the balcony doors were standing wide open. He knew, with Negan’s fear of heights, that he probably wasn’t out there, but he decided to check anyway.

 

There he was. Sitting in the desk chair just behind the curtains.

 

“You said you’d never come out here.”

 

“Well, I’m only halfway out.” Negan said, still sounding despondent.

 

He looked up at Rick and smiled. The smile was still very distant. It troubled Rick. He was going to do his best to make him open up. He walked over to the edge of the balcony. Using his upper body and arm strength, he pulled himself up to sit on it.

 

“You were very quiet on the way home. You thinking about dinner?”

 

Negan put his head back against the wall and continued to smile.

 

“Tonight went okay, don’t ya think?” Rick asked. “I mean, the business aspect was good, I think. He’s in trouble, you want his company, and he doesn’t wanna let it go.”

 

“Uh yeah, Rick. I was fucking there. But thanks for the recap. I appreciate it.”

 

“Problem is,” Rick said swinging his legs back and forth. “I think you actually like Mr. Greene. I think you could help _each other_.”

 

Negan looked up. His color drained from his face quickly and was replaced with a sickly green. “What I _would like,_ is for you to get the hell off of that goddamn ledge, Rick. You’re making me very fucking nervous. Please.”

 

Rick leaned back further and looked over the edge. “I’m making you nervous? What if I leaned back a little bit like this? Would you… would you rescue me if I fell?”

 

“Rick!” Negan’s heart was pounding and he was starting to sweat. “ _Please_ get down from there.”

 

“We’re so high in the sky, Negan!” Rick held his arms out and flapped them like a bird's wings. “Look at me! I'm flying. I'm fly —”

 

“Goddammit Rick! I’m ser—” He turned his head and took a deep breath. “I’m not… I’m not fucking looking.” He clenched his eyes shut and hissed through his teeth.

 

“Okay. Alright. I’m sorry.” Rick surrendered, seeing Negan in a near state of panic. “I was just fooling around. I’ll stop.”

 

Negan sighed. “The truth is, it’s irrelevant whether I fucking _like_ Hershel Greene or not. Okay, Rick? I _am_ helping him by buying his company. I refuse to let myself become emotionally involved in business.”

 

“I get that, Negan.”

 

And he really did. If Rick has heard those words once, he’s heard them a thousand times. It was Daryl’s motto. _Don’t get emotionally involved when you turn tricks._ Daryl would keep him awake at night, when he would actually bother to come home, and drill those words into his head.

 

After several minutes of dead silence, other than the horns from the passing cars below them, Negan started laughing. Rick wondered if he’d missed the joke. Then, just like that, the laughter faded. His expression turned serious again.

 

“You and me,” Negan said. “We are such fucking similar creatures, Rick.”

 

“How’s that?”

 

“We both screw people for money.”

 

Rick would be lying if he said the comparison didn’t sting a little. Did he forget that this was his first time? That he, himself, said that them sleeping together had nothing to do with money? Maybe he expected Rick to go right back to the streets when they parted ways.

 

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” Rick said after an awkward silence. “When did he die?”

 

“Last month.”

 

“Oh.” Rick didn’t know the wound was so fresh. “Do you miss him?”

 

Negan sighed. “I hadn’t spoken to that sorry shit in fourteen and a half years, Rick. I wasn’t there when he died.”

 

Rick could see he was uncomfortable. “Do you even wanna talk about this?”

  
“No.” Negan’s answer was prompt and firm.

 

Rick jumped down off of the balcony wall and settled on his knees in between Negan’s legs like a child. “I just had a _great_ idea. Let’s snuggle up together and watch a bunch of old black and white movies. We’ll just... veg out on the couch together. Whataya say?”

 

Negan laughed. “What do I say? I say _,_ what the fuck does veg out even mean?”

 

“It means we just lay around on the couch watching TV. Be still like vegetables. Lay like broccoli.”

 

Negan smiled but shook his head no. He stood up, leaving Rick sitting on the ground. “I’ll be back later, okay? We can do broccoli tomorrow.”

 

He stroked Rick’s face gently before he walked away.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I just… I just need some time alone, Rick. Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”


	7. Chapter 7

Rick woke up as the end credits for  _ To Kill A Mockingbird  _ were rolling on the screen. He massaged his neck, trying to rub away the stiffness he’d acquired from falling asleep with his head hanging off the edge of the couch. He looked at the clock. It was 2:56 am. 

 

Other than the flickering glow from the screen, the room was dark. 

 

“Negan? You home?”

 

Rick checked the bedroom then the bathroom. Concerned that he hadn’t come back, he slipped his robe over his small, black briefs and headed out the door, determined to find him. There was only a handful of people wandering around the hotel at three o'clock in the morning. Negan wasn’t one of them. He took the elevator downstairs.

 

“Have you seen the gentleman staying in the Empire Suite?” Rick asked the elevator operator.

 

He nodded and took Rick down to the lounge. “Just follow the music,” he instructed.

 

Rick could see the silhouette of a man at the piano in the softly lit room. Although he couldn’t see his face, he knew it was Negan. He could hear the heartache and anguish pouring from the melody. Those sorrowful notes were speaking the words Negan had trouble finding earlier. 

 

Without disturbing him, he stood beside him and listened to the feelings as they poured out through the music. His fingers danced over the keys fluidly. His face was a cocktail of suffering and despair. Every tinkling strike of the keys were heavy yet delicate. Muted yet shiny. Broken yet smooth. Rick could feel his own emotions beginning to surface. 

 

The music ended and the few people who were working in the lounge gave him a languid round of applause. As if Negan could sense his presence, he turned to look at Rick. He managed a small smile seeing him standing there barefoot in his robe with sleep rumpled curls. 

 

“I didn’t know you played,” Rick said. 

 

“I only play for strangers.”

 

Rick leaned against the piano, resting his elbows on top. “I was getting lonely upstairs all by myself.”

 

Negan’s eyes, now bearing the faintest hint of danger, wandered aimlessly over Rick’s robe-covered  body. He turned to the men who were doing maintenance on the other instruments. 

 

“Gentlemen. Would you leave us please?” 

 

Rick seemed to be impressed by Negan’s natural authority over others. “Do people  _ always  _ do what you tell them to do?”

 

Ignoring his question, Negan gripped him by the waist, sliding his backside roughly along the keys. The notes were harsh and offensive compared to the euphonic melody from moments ago. He placed his head against Rick’s stomach and held him in a tight embrace. 

 

Realizing, what he needed right now was comfort, he ran his fingers through Negan's hair and gently cradled his head in his arms. Negan shuddered against him and Rick allowed it, giving him time to let go of whatever it was that causing this grief. He was sure it was one of two things, if not both. His troublesome business deal with Hershel Greene, or the death of his estranged father.

 

After several minutes, Negan looked up through wet eyelashes to see Rick, offering a gentle, understanding smile. Offering a half-smile in return, he untied Rick’s belt and opened his robe. 

 

“You buy those for me?” Negan asked, staring at the small black briefs that barely covered Rick’s hips.

 

“Well I'm not wearing them for the bellhop.”

 

The soft lighting in the lounge was just enough to reveal the pain still present on Negan's face. His eyes were distant, like he was suddenly far away and out of reach. Completely unattainable. 

 

Rick had nothing to offer him but himself. He pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him, holding his head against his bare stomach. 

 

Negan relaxed into the comfort of skin against skin, inhaling his delicious scent. The slight, musky smell of sweat marrying with a faint hint of soap from a recent shower. He breathed him in again, deeper this time.

 

“Are you wearing my cologne?”

 

The guilty grin currently situated on Rick’s face was all the answer he needed. 

 

“It just… it smells so good,” Rick admitted. “I like smelling like you. It’s like part of you is always with me.”

 

Negan looked up to see Rick’s face redden with his accidental confession. 

 

“Part of me, huh?” he teased, confidence evident in his voice. “So you miss the  _ other parts _ when I’m working? Or leave you all alone to watch old movies by yourself until the wee hours of the morning?”

 

He nodded, combing his fingers through Negan’s thick, salt and pepper hair. Rick didn’t like admitting it, but he did miss him when they weren’t together. He knew it was foolish. Negan would be back in New York in a few days and they would, most likely, never see each other again. But he couldn’t fight his attraction to the man, nor did he want to. It wasn’t his money he missed. It was  _ him _ .

 

“These hands and these arms,” Rick said, pulling them around him tighter. “I miss those. Your suits and ties.” He pulled his necktie, drawing him closer. “I miss them, too. And this face.” He placed a hand against both cheeks. “I miss it most of all. With these eyes and —   _this mouth_.” He kissed him. 

 

Rick's praises and confessions affected Negan. His lips responded with an ardent need, deepening their kiss. The more he tasted of Rick, the more he wanted. The more he  _ needed _ . 

 

Keeping their mouths connected, he gripped Rick by the hips, lifting him to sit on top of the grand piano. His legs parted as if by instinct, allowing Negan room to press in closer. 

 

Rick broke the kiss, desperate to replenish the missing air from his deprived lungs. Negan, still hungry for more, nipped and sucked the side of his neck, feeling the skin around his mouth turn to gooseflesh in response to his touch.

 

“I’m going to make love to you until the sun comes up,” he growled in Rick’s ear.

 

His hand slid over Rick’s muscular chest. Negan swore he could feel his heartbeat quicken under his palm. Rick felt as if his heart rhythm had changed altogether. 

 

Nudging the robe off of his shoulder, Negan’s mouth travelled a lazy path to his collarbone. Rick was dizzy from the sensations coursing through him. He lowered himself down to lie back on the piano. The shockwaves of pleasure continued as Negan’s tongue traced his nipples in slow, wet circles. 

 

As sorely as he wanted to close his eyes and let the passion consume him completely, Rick couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the man above him. His mouth moved over his ribs and stomach at a torturously slow and steady pace. 

 

Rick was reduced to a moaning, back-arching mass of writhing flesh as Negan's hand covered his stiff, scantily clad bulge.

 

“Fuck,” Negan purred. “You're wetter than a schoolgirl on prom night.”

 

Rick's arousal, thanks to Negan's generous body worshipping, had leaked through his briefs. His pulsing member throbbed against Negan's cupped palm. 

 

“You really wanna do this here?” Negan asked, reminding himself the doors to the lounge were unlocked.

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Rick whined. “ _ Please _ .”

 

“Those goddamned doors are unlocked, Rick. Someone could walk in any fucking min — .”

 

“ _ I don't care _ ,” Rick stressed in a harsh whisper. “I wanna know what your mouth feels like.”

 

He peeled away the soaked, black fabric that clung snugly to his skin. Rick's wet length stood solid, glistening from the ambient lighting of the room, with another large bead of arousal forming at the tip, anticipating his touch. 

 

“Look at you,” Negan whispered. “Spilling all that honey, just for me.”

 

His prurient hazel eyes met Rick’s, holding him captive with a look of absolute desire as he gathered the freshly ejected slick with his fingers. 

 

“ _ Oh God _ ,” Rick said in a long heaving sigh.

 

The light stroke of his fingertip was enough to stoke the fire that was raging inside him, fanning the flames even higher. Negan coated his middle finger and circled his taut bud. 

 

As Rick was wondering how much more he could take before his starving body erupted like a volcano, Negan slid the slippery digit inside him. He cried out as the sensitive walls of his channel were massaged time and time again, not giving a single damn whether anyone heard him or not.

 

Negan laid his free arm firmly against Rick’s hip, holding him in place preventing him from thrashing around and falling off the piano. The bottom of his feet banged the keys loudly.

 

“Settle the fuck down there, Beethoven. You want the whole goddamn hotel to hear you?”

 

Rick looked down at his neglected cock then back to Negan, his blue eyes almost pleading. 

 

Negan licked his lips and eyed his still leaking staff. “Fuck. I bet you taste delicious.”

 

“Stop fucking talking and find out,” Rick whined, his thighs trembling uncontrollably.

 

Negan’s breath ghosted over his skin, causing the hard muscles of his stomach to shudder. His back bridged over the hard surface beneath him when Negan’s lips finally closed around him. The combination of sensations from the softness of his lips and the roughness of his stubble on his sensitive skin was overpowering.

 

“ _ Jesus Christ _ ,” Rick hissed. “Don’t… s-stop.”

 

Negan could feel his veins, flooded with blood, pulsing with his ever quickening heartbeat against his tongue. He wrapped his hand around the slick, shiny shaft, stroking him with skilled precision. Rick could feel the heat building and coiling inside him as he watched him work his body into ecstasy.

 

Negan’s finger pumped in and out of him mercilessly. He removed the hand that was stroking his shaft and drove Rick’s cock to the back of his throat, nose deep in the batch of Rick’s short curls over and over and over. Rick’s entire body stiffened. He clawed at the smooth surface of the piano top.

 

“ _Negan_ _I’m—”_ Before the words could form, his hands were in Negan’s hair, twisting and pulling, as his salty jets coated his tongue and the back of his throat.

 

The lounge door swung open causing Rick, who was still trying to catch his breath, to jump up and close his robe over his still exposed body. 

 

“What’s going on in here?” Negan recognized the manager’s voice. “This lounge is closed to guests at this hour.”

 

“We were just leaving,” Negan answered. “I was trying to teach Rick here how to play the piano.”

 

He took Rick back to their room and made good on his promise.

 

***

 

Negan walked back into the bedroom after showering, dressed and ready for work. Rick was still sleeping. He hated to wake him after only getting a couple hours of sleep. The only parts of him showing were the tips of his toes sticking out from under the sheets and his soft, brown curly hair spilling over the pillow. He tickled the bottom of his feet before sitting on the edge of the bed.

 

“Wake up. Time to shop.”

 

Rick grumbled in protest but finally rolled over onto his back. 

 

“Now, if you have any trouble with this,” Negan said, handing him a very shiny credit card. “Have them call me on my cell.”

 

“More shopping?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

 

He would rather spend the morning in bed. He would rather do just about  _ anything  _ than go shopping again. He was afraid he would receive the same treatment as before. Being judged unfairly. And for what? A fucking rip in his jeans and a hickey on his neck? Those people made him feel ashamed. Made him question his character. His Intelligence. Himself.

 

He wished that he had the chance to make the both of them, especially the bitch that pepper sprayed him, walk a mile in his shoes. To see what he sees on any given day. Hear the things he hears. To feel how they made him feel. Would they understand then? Would they still judge him?

 

“Yes, more shopping,” Negan answered, putting on his socks and shoes. “I want you to have nice things, Rick. You fucking shocked the hell out of me by only buying one suit and a handful of underwear yesterday. You need more than one. You need other clothes besides suits, too. Look at yourself. You’re a fucking fox. You should dress like one.”

 

“Well,” Rick sighed. “It wasn’t as much fun as I thought it was gonna be. I  _ was  _ excited. I really was. But… ”

 

Negan looked over and saw the look on Rick’s face. 

 

“Something happen that I should know about?  _ Rick?” _

 

His lip quivered. “They were so mean to me.”

 

Negan’s face flushed red with anger. “ _ Mean to you _ ? Who the fuck was mean to you?”

 

“The man and the woman that worked in the store I went to.”

 

“What happened? And I want every goddamned detail.”

 

“As soon as I walked in, they started making fun of me. They didn’t even try to keep it quiet. They meant for me to hear ‘em. I told ‘em I was there to buy some clothes. Told ‘em I had money. It didn’t matter. They looked at my jeans and laughed at me. Told me they didn’t have anything for me in their store. I tried to look at the suits on my own and they blocked my way.”

 

“What —”

 

“There’s more, Negan.” 

 

“More? What the fuck else could they have done?  _ Do not tell me _ those motherfuckers put their hands on you.”

 

“They told me to leave. When I tried to argue about having just as much right as anyone else to be there, the woman pepper sprayed me.” 

 

Rick paused long enough to compose himself. He didn’t want to cry in front of Negan, even though he felt like shedding buckets.

 

“I couldn’t see,” he continued “Couldn’t open my eyes. My throat and chest burned so bad. Then the guy pulled me outside and pushed me down on the sidewalk.” 

 

He showed him the thick, bloody scab over his elbow. 

 

“He just left me there. I couldn’t even see to get up. I had to scoot against a wall and just… wait. Not one person helped me, Negan. Not one.”

 

Negan’s jaw muscles worked in anger and he felt his blood pressure rising. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, holding it about ten or fifteen seconds before slowly releasing it. He took the credit card out of Rick’s hand and placed it back in his wallet. 

 

“Get some clothes on. Simon can handle this meeting for a little while without me.”


	8. Chapter 8

Rick crossed the street with his hand locked tight inside Negan's. He was wearing his old torn jeans and tank top, which had to be rinsed out in the sink to get out all of the pepper spray that had missed his face.

 

Negan was still angry, very much so, but Rick had managed to calm him down enough to talk him out of going to the shop and beating the hell out of the workers. Even though he knew they deserved nothing less, it wouldn’t solve anything. These people needed a different kind of lesson. 

 

“Maybe I should have worn the suit.” Rick said, feeling self-conscious. “People are looking at me.”

 

“They’re not looking at you, they’re looking at me.” 

 

“I don’t wanna do this. These stores are not nice... to people like me.”

 

Negan gave his hand a little squeeze. “Stores are never nice to people, Rick. They’re nice to  _ credit cards _ . Has nothing to do with who you are as a person.”

 

Stopping outside the doors of an upscale menswear shop, Negan turned to Rick. “Can’t have food in here. Get rid of your gum.”

 

Rick looked up and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that they were not in front of the store from yesterday. He didn't want Negan to do something they would both end up regretting later. 

 

Rick spit his gum about twenty feet onto the sidewalk, forcing a lady to jump out of the way so she wouldn’t be hit with it.

 

Negan closed his eyes and shook his head. “I cannot  _ believe  _ you did that.” 

 

Rick shrugged and allowed himself to be pulled through the doors. 

 

***

 

While Negan spoke to a sales associate about meeting with the manager, Rick looked around. There were so many nice things. He spotted a button-down that grabbed his attention. He looked for the price tag. When he found it, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. 

 

“Oh yeah.” Negan joined him in front of the shirts. “You would be a total fucking knockout in this shade of blue.”

 

“We won’t be finding out,” he whispered, incredulous.”It’s a hundred and twenty-five dollars. Is everything in here that expensive?”

 

Negan took the tag out of his hand and let it fall with the sleeve. “Don’t worry about the prices, Rick. If you see something you want, get it.”

 

“Anything?”

 

“ _ Anything _ . Everything if you want it.”

 

Rick placed his forehead against his shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“I don’t  _ have  _ to do shit,” Negan acknowledged. “I know that. But I  _ want  _ to. You deserve nice things, Rick. And you most certainly deserve to be treated with some fucking respect and dignity.” 

 

Rick didn’t know what to say. No one, not his parents, not even his wife, had ever made him feel this way. Like he mattered. Like he was something special. 

 

He looked up at Negan, hoping he didn't notice the tears that were threatening to form. “Thank you.”

 

The sound of a man clearing his throat obnoxiously behind them startled Rick. He let go of Negan and the shirt he'd been admiring, fearful of being thrown out of another store. 

 

“Yes?” Negan touched the small of Rick's back, assuring him that everything was alright. 

 

“You wished to speak with me?”

 

“You’re the manager?”

 

“I am. The name is Philip Blake.”

 

“Mr. Blake.” Negan offered a firm handshake. “Hi. I’m Negan. Do you see this man right here?” He gestured to Rick. “Do you have  _ anything  _ in this shop as beautiful as he is?”

 

Rick could feel the heat radiating from his neck, burning and spreading all the way up to the back of his ears.

 

“Oh yes.” Philip realized his mistake as soon as he caught a glimpse of Negan's expression. “Oh no. No, no.  _ No _ . What I’m saying is, we have many things that are... as beautiful as he would  _ want  _ them to be. That’s the point I was trying to make.”

 

As the manager rambled on, tripping over his own tongue, Rick watched as he started to sweat and tug uncomfortably at the knot of his necktie. Negan had a very powerful presence. He had just witnessed him turn a seemingly confident man into a bumbling fool just by changing his face.

 

“You know what we’re gonna need here?” Negan took the manager by the arm and gravitated toward the middle of the store. “We’re gonna need a few more people helping us out, and I’ll tell you why. We are gonna be spending an  _ obscene  _ amount of fucking money here. So we’re gonna need a lot more help sucking up to us and kissing our asses. ‘Cause that’s what we like. You can understand that, right?”

 

Rick was trying his best to keep from laughing out loud behind them. He enjoyed watching Negan work. This man was putty in his hands. The old saying was true. Money  _ does  _ talk. It was magical.

 

“Oh, sir. If I may say so, you are in the right store. And in the right city for that matter. Why I knew from the start —”

 

“I’d like to get started now if you don’t mind.” Negan was hoping to bring an end to his ridiculously false admiration. 

Mr. Blake turned to Rick. “Anything you see that you like, you just say the word. If there’s something you want and you  _ don’t  _ see it, we’ll get it. Your wish is our command.”

 

Negan was pleased, flashing Rick a quick wink.

 

Blake snapped his fingers. “Gareth, Spencer, Noah. Let’s see it. Come on.”

 

Like robots, the three well-coiffed, nicely-dressed men marched out and assembled around him. Two of the men were busy holding suits and other articles of clothing up against his body as the other had went to work with a tape measure, jotting down his arm, leg and waist length.

 

Rick was overwhelmed and anxiously looked to Negan as the man wrapped the tape measure around his neck. He offered him a reassuring smile and nod, letting him know it was okay to let them pamper him. He relaxed, somewhat, and let them do their work.

 

Negan busied himself in the underwear department, grabbing anything he thought Rick would look good in.

 

“Sir?” Mr. Blake said, clapping his hands together softly. “Exactly how  _ obscene  _ of an amount of money are we talking about here? Profane… or  _ really  _ offensive?”

 

“Really offensive. I'm talking so obscene, it would make your fucking proctologist blush.”

 

“Oh I like him so much,” Philip whispered as he walked back toward Rick.

 

Shirt after shirt. Suit after suit. Pants of every style imaginable. They were all presented to Rick to acquire his opinion. Each time a garment was held up to him, Rick would look for Negan’s approval or disapproval. He depended on his nods, head shakes and  _ okay  _ hand gestures before making a decision. If Negan didn't like it, Rick didn't like it. 

 

Negan seemed to prefer him in browns, blues and blacks. He wanted to please him. Afterall, he was the one picking up the tab. He was also the one who would be looking at him in these clothes. What he thought, mattered.

 

Negan was going through his phone messages and drinking a cup of tea when the manager sought him out a second time.

 

“Mr. Negan, sir. How’s it going so far? Pretty well I presume?”

 

Negan couldn’t resist. “I think we need a little more sucking up. I’m… I’m just not seeing enough of that. Doesn’t make me wanna spend a shit-ton of fucking money unless we’ve got a nice pair of juicy lips pressed against our asses.”

 

The manager adjusted his tie and cleared his throat. “Very well sir. You’re… you’re not only handsome but a powerful man. Why I could see from the second you walked in here that you were someone to reckon with —”

 

Negan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Blake, you fucking moron. Not me.” He pointed to Rick. “ _ Him _ .” 

 

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

 

“Shit.” Negan’s cell phone rang. It was Simon. “Yeah?”

 

“Negan.  _ Negan. _ ” Simon sounded like he was in the midst of a full blown panic attack. “Where the hell are you? The word’s all over the fucking street. Greene is going to raise your offer.”

 

“He’s  _ countering _ ?” Negan questioned, not bothering to wait for an answer. “God damn. He is one tough motherfucker. He  _ knows  _ the Navy contracts are stalled. Where the hell is he going to get the money?”

 

“I don’t know,” Simon answered. “Shit, I bet he’s throwing in with the employees.” 

 

“He’s still gonna need someone to underwrite the goddamn paper.”

 

Negan wanted to stay with Rick. To make certain no one else tried to bully him or hurt him. But he knew he had to take care of this matter. Otherwise, twelve long months of hard work were nothing more than time wasted. He wasn’t about to let that happen. 

 

“Simon, you find out who the fuck it is. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Simon replied. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

 

Negan turned around, nearly walking face-first into Rick. He was modeling a form-fitting pair of blue jeans with a light blue Oxford button-down and a Persian blue blazer. 

 

“What do you think of  _ this _ ?”

 

Rick’s eyes sparkled as he he stood waiting for Negan’s opinion. All three sales associates  _ and  _ the manager had already assured him he looked great, but their analysis meant nothing to him. He needed to hear it from Negan.

 

“Damn,” Negan said as he circled him, looking him up and down. “You look like a million bucks.”

 

“You really think so? I could get a different color or —”

 

“No, no. You’re fucking perfect just the way you are. Don’t you dare change a goddamn thing.”

 

_ Perfect _ . 

 

The word echoed in Rick's ears. He knew it would be nothing more than a memory soon, but it felt so good to hear. He wondered, if he had an especially bad day in the future, if he would look back to these budding memories and find comfort. All he knew is that he was finding it now, and he didn’t want to let it go.

 

Negan handed him a credit card. “You’re on your own. I have to get to work. You look great.” He walked past the manager. “He’s got my card.”

 

“ _ And _ we’ll help him  _ use  _ it, sir.” 

 

“Blake,” Negan turned around before opening the door. “You mistreat him or try to pressure him into any goddamn thing… if I find out you've been  _ anything _ but good to him, I'll break both your fucking legs.”

 

Philip swallowed hard and gave him a stiff nod of understanding. 

 

As one of the men, his nametag said  _ Spencer _ , helped him out of the blazer, Rick noticed his tie. He knew Negan would love it. It was the most extraordinary tie he had ever seen. It was gray, but the silk gave it more of a silver appearance. The design was simple, yet whimsical. It looked like it had been hand-painted using several different shades of gray watercolors, from the lightest to the darkest.

 

“Could I get one of those ties, too? Negan would love it.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Philip said. “We don’t sell that particular tie here.”

 

Rick’s face fell, causing the manager’s heart to leap into his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was upset him, especially with Negan’s verbal threat still hanging heavy over his head.

 

“Give him the tie,” he ordered, backhanding Spencer on the arm. “ _ Take it off _ … and give it to him.”

 

“ _ My _ tie?” Spencer questioned. “But I — ”

 

“ _ Please _ ,” Rick implored. “Negan would really go crazy over it.”

 

Spencer wavered for a few seconds before the tie was pulled from his collar  _ for _ him.

 

“Whatever he wants,” Philip reminded his employees. “ _ No matter what _ .”

 

***

 

Rick walked out of the store looking sharp in a tight, black polo that was tucked stylishly into a pair of gray dress pants with a simple, black belt. He had shopping bags in both hands and a smile on his face. 

 

People were definitely looking at him, only this time, they were smiling back. Self-confidence had been a rather elusive thing in Rick’s life during these last several months, but right now, he felt like he could do  _ anything _ .

 

Walking past the store where he was ridiculed and essentially assaulted, he wondered what they would say, more importantly, what they would do, if he walked in looking the way he did _now_. He stared at his reflection in the window trying to decide if it was worth the risk. Curiosity getting the best of him, he went inside.

 

“May I help you?” Rick didn’t recognise  _ this  _ man from yesterday. 

 

“No thanks,” Rick offered quickly, walking further through the store.

 

He searched for the faces of the two employees who had treated him so viciously. He spotted them. They were huddled behind the counter engrossed in conversation.

 

“Excuse me,” Rick interrupted.

 

Instead of making fun of him and asking him to leave, their friendly faces were in his personal space, quickly offering their assistance. It was as if they could  _ smell  _ the credit card in his pocket.

 

Rick had to admit, this store, though it lacked severely in the respect department, did have a lot of very nice merchandise. 

 

He looked at the suits they had prevented him from seeing yesterday. “You know, I think my boyfriend would just  _ love  _ to see me in this one.”

 

He didn’t bother asking for the price. Just informed them of his size and that he wanted it in black. He walked around the store, from one end to the other, showing them exactly what he wanted. Towers of dress pants and dress shirts. Several pairs of shoes. Countless belts and ties. He even picked out a few more complete suits. 

 

They chatted openly to Rick with greedy smiles on their faces as they rang up his impressive haul. With everything bagged and ready to go, the only thing left to do was pay.

 

“ _ And _ your total comes to... $6,832.56. Will that be cash or charge?”

 

Flashing them a jovial smile, he reached into his pocket and pulled out Negan’s credit card. Just as the female associate got her French-manicured fingertips around it, Rick tugged back just enough to prevent her from taking possession of it. 

 

“Wait,” he said. “I have a question for you.”

 

“And what is that, sweetheart?”   
  
“You work on commission, don’t you?”

 

“Yes we do,” the still-smiling woman replied. 

 

Rick thought back about the senseless pain and suffering they had put him through. If he thought about it long enough, he could still feel it. The relentless, intense burning. The taste and smell that he couldn't seem to get rid of. Every last detail regarding that pointless attack was still fresh on his brain.

 

“So you’ll be getting a nice chunk of change for this purchase, right? Both of you?”

 

“That’s right,” they answered simultaneously. 

 

“Okay,” Rick said, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. “I have one more question. Do you remember me?”

 

“I’m sorry... I don’t,” the lady answered, looking slightly confused.

 

“Should we?” the man asked.

 

Rick’s expression turned cold and the corners of his eyes tightened. “I would certainly think so... considering you refused my business, pepper sprayed me and tossed me out of this store  _ just yesterday _ .” He walked over to the spot where the assault took place, his voice low and husky. “Happened right here. Do you not remember that? Or is it something you do so often you simply lose track?”

 

The once talkative and courteous pair now stared at Rick in disbelief. 

 

“You made me feel like shit. Like I had done something wrong just by coming into your store. As if I wasn’t fucking good enough. You made me feel worthless. Why? Because my jeans were torn? Nobody deserves that kind of treatment. You didn't want my money then. Why the hell should I give it to you now? You know what?” Rick put Negan’s card back in his pocket. “I don’t think I will.”

 

He gathered up the shopping bags he entered the store with. “Maybe the money you screwed yourselves and this store out of might teach you not to judge others based on their outward appearance from now on.  _ Big  _ mistake on your part.  _ Huge _ . You two have fun putting all that shit back on the racks. I have more shopping to do. Oh, you can expect to hear from my lawyer.”

 

Rick walked toward the doors feeling better about himself than he had a long time. The broad smile currently residing on his face only grew bigger when he came to the realization that he handled this on his own. Yes, the new clothes may have given him the confidence to face those people again, but the ability to hand them their own asses, that was inside him all along.


	9. Chapter 9

Simon was cavorting around the room, congratulating himself and shaking hands with his team of throat-cutters. Finding out every last detail on Hershel's finances left him with an  _ on top of the world _ feeling. 

 

“Fellas,” he said. “Fine work today. Let's hammer out the rest of the details this afternoon, shall we?” He gestured to their temporary secretary. “Set something up for us, sweetheart. Somewhere between two o'clock or two-thirty would be perfect. Thanks.”

 

Negan's mood was a stark contrast to Simon's. He was quiet during the majority of the meeting. Sitting in the leather office chair, he did his best to keep a partial smile on his face until the room was down to just him and Simon. 

 

“You were right about Greene,” Simon said, patting Negan on the back and joining him at the table. “He mortgaged every fucking thing he owns right down to his underwear to secure a loan from the bank. And not just  _ any  _ bank." Simon laughed hysterically. "This ignorant motherfucker went through  _ your _ bank.” 

 

“Hmm.” It was all Negan could offer in response. He was looking over the plans and maps of Hershel's company. 

 

“So,” Simon continued. “I think it goes without saying that  _ your _ business means a lot more to them than Mr. Greene’s. All you gotta do is call the bank. We can end him right fucking now.”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Negan’s insufficient answers were grating on Simon's one surviving nerve. He had just given him the information needed to bring Hershel and his company down. They had him right where they wanted him. 

 

Yet he sat there. Instead of grabbing the phone and going in for the kill, Negan began to stack the water glasses that were in front of him. Simon looked on in disbelief. 

 

“ _ Negan _ . Excuse the fucking shit out of me, but what the hell is wrong with you this week? Are you trying to give Greene a chance to get away?”

 

“You know what I used to love when I was a kid?” Negan asked, not answering Simon's questions. 

 

“ _ What _ ?”

 

“Blocks.  _ Building _ blocks. Erector sets. Shit like that. I used to play with them for hours and hours.”

 

Negan was thinking about Rick. That first morning when he had innocently inquired about his business. 

 

_ What do you do?  _

_ You don't build anything?  _

_ And you don't make anything?  _

 

Those three questions have remained with Negan since Rick asked them. 

 

What  _ did _ he do? He wreaked havoc on people’s lives to pad his ever-growing bank account. It was plain and simple. Since meeting Rick, he was starting to see things differently. He wasn't sure if he liked it. Was he ready to change? Did he even  _ want _ to? He’s been so successful doing things his way for so long, why should he? 

 

“So?” Simon's tone was mocking. “I liked Monopoly. You know, Boardwalk, Park Place. What's your fucking point here? We’re talking about toys now? What the hell?”

 

“We don't build anything, Simon. We don't  _ make _ anything.”

 

“Sure we do. We make money, Negan. We've worked our asses off for a solid year on this goddamn deal. It's what you  _ said _ you wanted. I'm literally fucking handing it to you. 

 

Negan sighed. 

 

Simon groaned. “Listen. Greene's jugular is exposed here. It's time for the fucking kill. Let's finish him. Call the goddamn bank.”

 

Negan looked at the phone as Simon pushed it closer to him. 

 

***

 

Rick had ordered what he considered to be a romantic dinner from room service. Everything was on the table, just waiting for Negan to return from work. He turned the lights down low, lit a few candles, opened a chilled bottle of champagne and put on some soft music. 

 

He was trying to repay Negan for being so generous. He knew he would love the tie he'd picked out for him, he just needed to find an artistic way to give it to him.

 

Negan opened the door. The dimmed lights, candles and music went completely unnoticed as he walked through the room. But Rick, who was sitting at the table, did not. 

 

“How was your day,  _ dear _ ?” Rick's voice was slow and raspy. 

 

Negan stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the sight before him. “Nice tie.”

 

Rick was leaning back in the chair with his feet up on the edge of the table. He was completely naked, other than the necktie that was tied around his neck in a perfect Windsor knot.

 

“Thank you,” Rick replied, suggestively running his fingers up and down the length of the silky material. “I got it for you. You really like it?”

 

“Yeah.” Negan placed his briefcase down on the floor and inched toward him. “I  _ really  _ like it.”

 

“Are you hungry?” Rick asked. “I ordered room service.”

 

“ _ Starved _ ,” Negan growled, low and rumbly, slowly closing the distance between them.

 

Rick put his feet down, unveiling his iron-stiff cock, lying flush against his belly. Getting to his feet, he started pulling the silver domes from the trays. He knew exactly what he was doing. Stretching forward on his tiptoes, leaning over the table. Giving Negan’s  _ eyes _ a feast of their own.

 

“Doesn't this look good?” Rick asked, smiling over his shoulder. 

 

Negan tilted his head and licked his lips. “It sure does.”

 

“Sit,” Rick insisted. “Eat.”

 

Negan bit his lip to suppress his laughter when Rick tucked his cloth napkin into the tie to protect it from any food he might spill. He wondered how it was possible for anyone could look so ridiculous and sexy at the same time.

 

“Oh my God,” Rick said, smacking his lips as he chewed. “You gotta try this spaghetti.  _ Mmm _ . So good.”

 

Negan, still not eating, just relaxed back against his chair and watched him. Rick had both elbows on the table. His eyes rolled back and closed after each bite. The _mmm_ sound that kept coming from his lips was making Negan ache to touch him. It was the sexiest sight he'd ever witnessed. 

 

Rick looked up and peered across the table, using the end of his napkin to wipe the sauce from his mouth and beard. “Aren't you gonna eat? I worry about you, Negan. You hardly eat anything. You barely sleep. That’s not healthy.”

 

“I'm fine, Rick.”

 

Unsatisfied with his answer, Rick picked up Negan's plate, carefully topping the pasta with some fresh Parmesan cheese. He smiled, reaching it across the table to Negan, who simply shook his head no. 

 

Rick released an exasperated sigh. Deciding he could be as equally stubborn, he stood up and removed his napkin. Negan watched his naked form keenly as he carried the plate around the table, twirling the fork around the pasta to create the perfect bite. 

 

“ _ Please _ ,” he held the fork up to his mouth.

 

Faced with the same refusing head shake, he threw one leg over his lap, straddling him. Negan smoothed his hands over the his bare skin before squeezing into the malleable flesh of his ass, pulling him against his own confined stiffness. 

 

Rick picked up a long strand of pasta and placed it carefully between his own lips. His blue bedroom eyes silently pleading with him to eat as held the other end up to his mouth.

 

When he caught sight of those eyes and the sauce glossed his lips, Negan considered himself beaten. He opened his mouth, and accepted Rick’s offering, their lips connecting in a kiss when he pulled the end of the strand inside his mouth. 

 

Rick continued to feed him, bite after bite in the same  _ Lady and the Tramp  _ manner until he had his fill, licking and kissing away any sauce left behind on his mouth.

 

“I forgot to order dessert,” Rick noted. “I’ll call them up and — ”

 

Negan slapped his backside hard, leaving his left cheek a stinging shade of deep pink. “I got my dessert right here.”

 

Rick’s heart jumped and pounded against his ribs at the abrupt sound of glass shattering and silverware hitting the floor. Negan had used his free arm in a broad sweeping motion, clearing away enough of the food and dishes to make room for his body. 

 

He dropped him hard against the top of the table, overturning the bottle of champagne that Rick had been looking forward to. He yelped when the cold carbonated liquid reached his bare skin, pooling underneath him.

 

With a wink, Negan pulled a small bottle from his pocket, placing it on the table before discarding his jacket in the floor. 

 

“What's this?” Rick asked, picking it up for a closer inspection. He looked up at Negan with wide eyes and an even wider smile. He flipped the cap back on the salted caramel flavored lubricant, inhaling its rich, decadent sweet and buttery scent.

 

“What dessert wouldn’t be better with a little caramel topping?” Negan smirked. 

 

Rick rubbed a small amount back and forth between his fingers, reluctantly touching it to the tip of his tongue. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “It’s actually really good.”

 

“Yeah?” Negan questioned. “Let me have a fucking taste.”

 

Rick held his fingers up close to Negan's lips, but pulled his fingers away just as his tongue darted out to taste them, teasing him. Rick brought his hand down and rubbed the bead of sugary-tasting liquid onto the skin just under his ear, turning his head to expose the glistening area on his neck.

 

“Come and get it.”

 

Negan was anything but gentle when he yanked him by the legs, pulling his ass to the table’s edge. Rick could feel his hair getting drenched in the champagne, his teeth chattering as the chills intensified over his scalp. Negan bent forward, wedging his fully clothed body between Rick's thighs and pressed his lips against his ear. 

 

“You only aroused my appetite with dinner.” Every word of Negan’s breath-heavy whispers sent erotic vibrations straight down Rick’s spine. “I’m just getting started.” 

 

Rick gasped. Negan’s appetite for him was insatiable. His hot tongue and teeth scraping over his skin, scattering marks of his possession all over his neck. 

 

“Fuck,” Negan said. “That  _ does  _ taste good.”

 

“F-feels even better,” Rick whispered, running his fingers through Negan’s short hair.

 

Taking more of the caramel slick, Rick traced both nipples and a slow straight line from his sternum to his belly button, dipping inside. His eyes were dark with desire, almost daring. Negan started his feast at Rick’s navel, licking and lapping away the heavenly taste, eliciting a string a soft moans from both men. 

 

He paused to take a deep breath, feeling Rick’s arousal soaking through the front of his dress shirt to the point of transparency. He looked down at him. He looked completely and utterly sexy lying there. 

 

His fingers wringing and twisting through his champagne-soaked curls. His body writhing slowly and softly against the table. The dancing flames of the candles made his glazed nipples shimmer and shine as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. 

 

Lowering his head again, Negan took a glossy nipple between his lips, sucking gently and savoring the sweet flavor. His tongue grazed and flicked over the sensitive tip again and again until he tasted nothing but flesh.

 

“Had enough?” Rick asked, coating his fingers with sizeable pearl of lube. “Or are you hungry for more?”

 

Using his index finger, he traced the rim of his pink, puckered ring of of muscles, circling round and round before closing his eyes and letting it slip inside his tight heat. As he added a second finger, Negan studied him. His eyes travelled back and forth from the vanishing fingers and Rick’s face, branded deep with focused intent. His shoulder muscles bulging as he rocked his own body with slow, steady thrusts.

 

Negan watched him for a while then swallowed hard. He had to have the taste of him on his tongue again. Taking hold of Rick’s hand, he withdrew the working digits. He couldn’t hold back the animalistic sounds erupting from his throat when Rick put his sticky fingers up to his own mouth and licked them clean.

 

Lifting his legs, Negan pushed Rick's knees back to his chest, spreading him obscenely wide open. Keeping his tongue flat, he slowly licked over the now shining hole, watching it open and close in response. 

 

“Fuck!” 

 

Rick slapped wildly against the tabletop, splashing the puddles of champagne as Negan’s tongue continued to dip and swirl in and around his ass, searching for every last drop of mouthwatering sweetness. With each pass of his tongue, Negan watched his opening continue to clench rhythmically, looking so eager to be filled. A sight that had him unbelievably hard. 

 

Using one hand to hold Rick in place and the other to unfasten his pants, he freed his raging hard-on, splattering precome all over himself and Rick’s exposed flesh.

 

“God damn, Rick.” Negan’s words were coming out in heavy breaths. “You’ve got me so motherfucking hard it hurts. I need to get a condom."

 

“ _ No _ ,” Rick whined. “I wanna feel  _ you _ .”

 

He was too far gone to argue. Taking his time, Negan entered him slowly. Then, just as slowly, pulled back, enjoying every sliding inch of Rick’s inviting heat. With every thrust, his contracting muscles wrapped around him like a tight, velveteen fist. Sensitive nerve endings with no barrier between them screaming with need.

 

“Ha — ha — hard,” Rick groaned, making small, breathy noises with every thrust. 

 

Rooted deep inside him, leaning over his form and filling him completely, Negan increased his speed, fucking him rough and hard. His grasp on his hips tightened. Rick’s cries and moans merged with the sound of their skin beating together as Negan drove his entire length inside him with every pump.

 

“Talk to me,” Rick cried, wrapping his hand tightly around his shaft, stroking himself with unrestrained fervency. "Talk to me, Negan."

 

Negan’s hand joined his, the two of them massaging his length together. “What do you wanna hear? You want me to tell you how fucking hot you look right now?”

 

Rick was so close.

 

“You’re fucking perfect. So beautiful. And right here, right now, you’re all mine.”

 

Rick wasn’t aware that he needed to hear those words until they were laid out in front of him. But there they were, the three words that made him come unglued. 

 

_ You’re all mine. _

 

“Yours,” he growled out hoarsely. as his release spilled violently over their hands, his cock throbbing against Negan’s palm and body spasming around him. 

 

“Say it again,” Negan growled, fucking into him savagely. Rick bucking his hips, rocking the table beneath them, meeting Negan thrust for thrust.

 

“ _ I’m yours _ ,” Rick breathed softly, reaching up to caress his shoulders.

 

"God... dammit!"

 

Pulse after hot pulse flowed deep inside Rick, filling him, making his body close around him even tighter. Negan collapsed on top of him. His body was shaking and drenched with sweat.

 

***

 

Rick was leaning back in the tub. The warm water and the myriad of suds that surrounded them soothed their overworked bodies. Negan was seated between his legs, comfortably reclined and resting against his chest. 

 

Even in the soapy water and through the sweat that covered his skin, Rick’s nose still picked up the distinct scent of his cologne that lingered on his upper body. He would never forget it. He knew that smell, no matter how far apart they were, would always be with him.

 

“Tell me about your father,” Rick said against the back of Negan’s neck as he reached around to wash his chest, neck and arms with his hands.

 

Negan pushed his big toe in and out of the polished brass faucet, watching as the last loitering drops of water that remained inside fell to their demise into the tub. 

 

“My mother,” he sighed. “She was a music teacher. She married my father whose family was  _ extremely  _ wealthy. To the best of my knowledge, they we were a happy family. Not a single fucking problem in the world. Then, out of the goddamn blue he… he divorced my mother to be with another woman. Didn’t even attempt to hide conceal his reason why. When he left, he took his fucking money with him. The whole fucking thing changed her. She was devastated and never got over it. And then she… she died, Rick. Died of a broken heart.”

 

His hands stilled on Negan’s chest. The unspoken words were loud and clear to Rick. He was afraid of getting close to anyone because of what he witnessed with his parents marriage. 

 

“I was very  _ angry  _ with him,” Negan continued. “It cost me thirty motherfucking thousand dollars to say that sentence in therapy. I was very  _ angry  _ with him. Shit. Listen to me. I do that very well don’t I? I’ll say it again. Hello, my name is Negan and I was very fucking angry with my sorry ass motherfucking excuse of a father.”

 

“I would have been angry over the thirty-thousand dollars,” Rick said, running his soapy hands over his upper body again.

 

“My father was the president of the third company I ever took over.” Negan admitted proudly. “I bought it, and I sold it off piece by piece, leaving  _him_ in shambles."

 

“What did your shrink have to say about that?” Rick asked, cupping water over his chest, rinsing away the soap.

 

“Said I was cured.”

 

Negan took Rick’s hand, sandwiching it between his own, appreciating the feel of it just being there.

 

“Well,” Rick said. “So you got your revenge. You got even. That  _ had  _ to make you happy. Right?”

 

Negan was quiet.

 

Rick sighed. “Did I ever tell you that my leg is 45 and a half inches from hip to toe?” He wrapped both legs around Negan's waist and crossed his ankles, holding him tight. “So that's, what? Over 90 inches of therapy _right_ _here._ And all for the bargain price of—”

 

Negan chuckled, finishing his sentence with him. “The bargain price of ten-thousand dollars.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're a real fucking steal of a deal, Rick.”

 

“That’s right,” Rick agreed with a lengthy yawn. “Can we go to bed now? I’m about to fall asleep in this bathtub.”

 

“Yeah, we got a busy day tomorrow.”

 

“We?” Rick yawned again. “It's not another restaurant with snails and people that don't know what a bottle of ketchup looks like is it? Because I don't — ”

 

Negan laughed, snaking his arm up around Rick's neck. “No. You will fucking enjoy  _ this _ date. I promise.”

 

***

 

Rick breathed out a heavy, contented sigh as he stretched his body out, settling under the sheets and feeling Negan's strong arm wrap around him, pulling him close. He felt safe. Comfortable. He wanted to experience this feeling for the rest of his life. But he knew that wasn't possible. But he didn't see any harm in enjoying it while it lasted. 

 

“Thank you for the tie,” Negan whispered. “I love…” 

 

There was a long pause. 

 

“I love it.”

 

As exhausted as he was, there was something about that long pause that kept Rick awake half the night.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Trigger warning :

Sexual harassment 

 

 

The bed had grown cold. Negan was called in to an unexpected early morning meeting with Simon and had been gone for hours.

 

Rick stirred in his sleep and rolled over, reaching out to the now unoccupied side of the bed. When the only thing his arms found were wrinkled sheets and an empty space, his eyes slowly fluttered open.

 

“Negan?”

 

Attempting to bring his vision into focus by blinking, something red in his peripheral caught his attention. There, lying on Negan’s abandoned pillow, was a single, long-stemmed red rose. He picked it up and breathed in its sweet perfume, wondering what it signified.

 

He remembered, before their relationship started to fizzle, that he used to give Lori red roses.

 

In the beginning, he used them to represent passion and desire. The message was definitely received during his first attempt, as they ended up fucking in the backseat of his car on their third date.

 

Immediately following their marriage, he would often bring home a red rose bud, representing and reminding her of their newfound love for one another.

 

After a few years, he elected for the red roses in full bloom, his way of wordlessly saying, _I still love you._

 

Inhaling the sweet fragrance once more, he forced himself out of his reverie. He knew he was reading too much into this. It was just a rose. Nothing more than a kind gesture.

 

Sitting up in bed, he noticed a note on the pillow that had accompanied the rose.

 

_Rick,_

 

 _Be dressed and ready_ _to go by 10:30._

_Your clothes are at the foot of the bed. I_

_promise not to be late this time._

 

_Negan_

 

Rick looked at the clock. “Shit.”

 

Negan would be there to pick him up in less than thirty minutes.

 

***

 

Rick paced back and forth in the lounge, checking the clock on the wall periodically. He was dressed in a dark gray suit with a black button-down. He left his blazer open and decided not to wear a tie. It must have been the right call if the whistle coming from behind him was any indication.

 

Rick turned around to meet his date. Everything he wanted to say in that moment was instantly forgotten when he got a glimpse of him. His suit was a silver gray. It made every single strand of gray in his salt and pepper hair and beard shine like diamonds. He was stunning. Rick felt a tug at his heart when he looked at his tie.

 

“Y-you’re actually wearing it.”

 

The tie looked like it was specifically designed for that suit. For Negan.

 

“Of course,” Negan said, tucking away a wild curl behind Rick’s ear. “I told you I loved it.” Negan leaned in and whispered in his ear. “It still smells like champagne and sex.”

 

Rick blushed, fighting the urge to lean in and smell it himself.

 

“We’re gonna be the hottest goddamn couple at this fucking shindig,” Negan said, flashing his million-dollar smile.

 

 _Couple_.

 

Rick's heart skipped a beat. “You never told me where we were going?”

 

Negan threw his arm around Rick’s shoulder as they headed out. “Ever been to a polo match?”

 

***

 

Rick got out of the limousine and immediately panicked. He had his back to the door and a death-grip on the handle, refusing to let go.

 

The ground thundered and rumbled from the running horses on the field. There was an ocean of rich people as far as the eye could see. Fancy hats on just about every head.

 

“Come on, Rick. Don't do this.”

 

Negan put his arms around him, attempting to free his hands from the door handle.

 

“I… I can't. There are too many people. The kind of people that take one look at me and automatically know that I'm beneath them. Take me back. _Please._ I told you, I don’t fit in at places like this. With _people_ like this. _”_

 

“You realize what you’re really saying is, _with people like me_ , right?”

 

He lowered his head, only raising his eyes briefly to look at him before dropping his gaze again.

 

“Come on.” Negan urged. “Let g— _let go_ , Rick.”

 

Finally breaking his grip, Negan held his hands together out in front of him.

 

“Just listen to me.” Negan spoke softly. “You look great. You look like a gentleman. Hell, you _are_ a gentleman. You are not beneath anyone here. You're going to have a good time.”

 

Rick nervously and grudgingly shook his head in agreement.

 

“Okay,” Negan said. “Don't fidget. And don't forget to show off that smile.”

 

***

 

Negan introduced Rick to some of his friends that flew down for the match.

 

“This is Andrea and Amy. These two have turned marrying well into an art form.”

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hello,” Rick replied, trying to sound confident.

 

Negan looked over his shoulder and noticed something that required his attention. “Back in a sec. You three chat and get better acquainted.”

 

Rick tried to catch him before he left him alone with the two women. He was unsuccessful.  

 

“So,” Andrea said, looking Rick up and down as if she’d already made up her mind about him. “You're the flavor of the month? I would have never guessed Negan liked his sundae with… _nuts.”_

 

Rick looked at the woman fixedly, shocked at her audacity.

 

“Don't pay any attention to her.” Amy seemed to be a little more sophisticated than her sister. “She's just being testy. Negan is our _most_ eligible bachelor. Everybody is trying to land him.”

 

“ _Everybody_ is an understatement,” Andrea said, glaring at Rick while sipping champagne.

 

Rick made a decision quickly. He wasn't going to take shit from this woman anymore.

 

“For your information, I'm not trying to _land him_. I'm just using him for sex.”

 

Rick, banking a mental Polaroid of her completely and utterly shocked face, walked away.

 

He found Negan. He was watching the match on the sidelines.

 

“Well done!” Negan cheered, clapping his hands.

 

Rick threw both arms up in the air. “Whoo!” He wasn't sure what he was cheering for, but everyone else was doing it.

 

“Tell me again why we're _here_ ,” Rick said, looking around at all of the people.

 

“Business.”

 

“You mean mingling?” Rick asked.

 

“N-well, yeah,” Negan answered. “ _Business_ mingling.”

 

“Negan!” Simon’s voice rang out over the noise of the crowd. “Negan! Over here!”

 

“Come with me, Rick. I want you to meet someone.”

 

Rick followed unenthusiastically.

 

“Simon.” Negan shook his hand. “Good to see you outside of the fucking office.”

 

“That’s the truth.”

 

Negan put his arm around Rick, pulling him close to his side. “I want you to meet a new friend of mine. _This_... is Rick.”

 

Simon extended his hand. “Rick. It's always a pleasure meeting one of Negan's... friends _.”_

 

Rick disliked Simon immediately. There was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way. The way he looked at him made his skin crawl.

 

“Let me go get you a drink, Rick.” Simon ran his hand over the small of his back making his fists clench. “Don't go away.”

 

“Real genuine guy,” Rick said after he was gone. “Who is he?”

 

“He's my business partner,” Negan replied. “And my best friend. He's alright.”

 

Rick looked at him. “Are these people really your friends?”

 

“I spend time with them, yeah.”

 

“Well no wonder.” Rick sighed.

 

“No wonder, what?” Negan asked.

 

“No wonder you came looking for someone like me.”

 

***

 

An announcement was made over the loudspeaker, requesting _help from the audience._ Rick watched everyone climb under the rope barriers, gathering out into the field.

 

Negan took him by the hand. “It's the divot stomp, Rick. Come on.”

 

“The what?” Rick asked, being physically pulled out to the field.

 

“It's a time-honored tradition as old as the game itself. We stomp the grass and dirt back in place where the horses hooves have fucked it up. Kings and Queens used to do this shit. It's fun.”

 

Negan showed him how to overturn the displaced earth with his foot, then stomp it back down with a little jump.

 

Rick gave it a try. He felt a little silly at first, but soon got into it. He was flipping the divots and hopping all over the field with a huge grin on his face.

 

“He's awfully sweet.”

 

Negan turned around. He was face-to-face with another one of his friends from back home.

 

“Wherever did you find him?” she questioned. “He's… different.”

 

_Different?_

 

Negan wanted to snap. He looked up at Rick. The playful, genuine smile on his face prevented him from doing that.

 

“I found him by calling 976-BABE”

 

Walking away with a satisfied smirk, he joined Rick out on the field. They started stomping the ground together. It didn't take long for them to get carried away. It was as if it was just the two of them out there.

 

Negan wrapped his arms around his waist and scooped him up, twirling him around and around. Rick was laughing wildly as they danced on the divots, rather than stomping them in place. Simon, who chose not to participate, watched them from behind the ropes. His eyes were trained hard on Rick.

 

***

 

Rick was sitting barefoot on the back of a car, waiting for his shoes to be returned to him. They had taken quite the beating on the field. A member of the club had offered to polish them.

 

“Hey.”

 

Rick turned around. It was Hershel Greene's daughter.

 

“ _Maggie_?”

 

“How are you?” she asked.

 

“I'm okay.”

 

“I thought I recognized you earlier. I like this suit. You look great.”

 

Simon, still watching him, was clearly agitated. He sought out Negan, demanding information on how's and why's he ended up with Rick.

 

“Well I… ” Negan began nervously. “I was lost. I was asking for directions and… there he was.”

 

“Oh so you just _ran into him?_ That… that's great, I guess. So tell me, what does he do? Does he work?”

 

“He’s uh,” Negan looked at the ground, hoping to find an answer. “He's in sales.”

 

“Sales?” Simon's eyebrows furrowed. “What does he sell?”

 

Negan was starting to sweat.

 

“Why? Why do you want to know?”

 

“Look,” Simon said. “Just… just fucking hear me out on this, okay? I've known you for a long time. I… I see some differences in you this week. Like the tie and the… ” he sighed. “I'm wondering if this guy isn’t the difference. Especially when I see him standing over there talking to Hershel's daughter.”

 

Negan looked around. The two of them were standing close, looking to be deep in conversation. Negan promptly felt a bitter sting of jealousy, taking in their proximity.

 

“I introduced them at dinner the other night.”

 

“So what?” Simon continued. “Now they're best friends or some shit? I mean, come on. This guy appears from out of nowhere and now he's fraternizing with the enemy? That's a little fucking convenient, don't you think?”

 

“Oh for the love of fuck, Simon. Don't be ridiculous.”

 

“Negan.” Simon's tone was heavy. “How do you know this guy hasn't attached himself to you because he's bringing information back to Greene?”

 

“Simon,” Negan tried to talk over him. “Simon.  _Simon._ Listen to me. Rick is not a spy.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“He’s a hooker.”

 

Simon dismissed his confession with a scoff.

 

“I’m serious. I picked him up when he gave me directions. I thought he had a nice ass. Turns out I was right.”

 

Simon started laughing hysterically. “You're the only millionaire I've ever known to go out looking for a bargain basement streetwalker.” His laughter grew louder and he began to snort.

 

“I'm so fucking glad I told you,” Negan said sarcastically while walking away.

 

Simon got himself under control. With Negan heading to the other side of the field, he decided to use this opportunity to go to Rick.

 

“Having a nice time?”

 

“Yeah,” Rick smiled. “I'm having a great time, actually.”

 

“I don’t doubt that for one fucking minute. All of this must be quite the change from your... usual lifestyle _._ ”

 

Rick’s smile crumbled, buckling under Simon’s last two words. He broke out in a cold sweat. “What the hell are you — ?”

 

“Oh Negan told me all about you, sweetheart.”

 

_Is this really happening? Wait, no, this can’t be real. Negan wouldn’t have —_

 

Simon's hand was on his back again, sliding a little lower this time. Rick felt a finger slip inside the back of his pants, pulling at his shirt until the pad of his finger was met with soft, smooth skin.

 

It was real.

 

“Don't you worry your pretty little head about it though. Your secret is safe with me.”

 

Rick was sick to his stomach.

 

“Listen,” Simon said, dragging his finger back and forth across his lower back. “Maybe uh… maybe you and I could get together sometime? You know, after Negan's finished with you.”

 

Negan knew Simon had always been obsessed with the idea of sleeping with another man. He’d just never been valiant enough to act on it. With Rick, he could satisfy his curiosity and no one would ever know.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Rick stared off into space, completely unaware of what he was saying. “Why not?”

 

“Yeah?” Simon traced a slow path along Rick’s sharp jawline. “We’ll just have to do that.”

 

With Simon finally gone, Rick clutched his shirt just above his heart and gasped for air. The shattering pain he felt left an empty feeling in his chest. A desolate expanse of seemingly endless darkness.

 

The hurt and betrayal consumed him like a raging inferno. Fully engulfing him, setting fire to and destroying everything he thought they had or could have.

 

The one person who could have made everything better. Who could have changed his entire life, had just proven that he was no different than everyone else.

 

Rick was crushed. He knew he had no right to be this wounded, having only known Negan for a few days, but he couldn’t deny the anguish he felt.

 

He wanted all of this to end. For the whole thing to just be over. Right now, as far as he was concerned, it was. They were nothing more than strangers.

 

Strangers with memories.

 

Memories that he would never be able to entomb.


	11. Chapter 11

“God,” Negan sighed, tossing the key card on the table as they walked back into the room. “I fucking miss  _ actual  _ keys. I like the sound they — ”

 

Rick slammed the door behind him grabbing Negan's attention. 

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“Fine,” Rick replied quickly, cutting his eyes sharply at Negan before walking away. 

 

“ _ Fine _ .” Negan echoed. “That's about the seventh fine out of you since we left the match. Could I have another word, please? Be my fucking guest.”

 

“How about asshole?” Rick slammed the bathroom door, locking himself in. 

 

Negan shrugged. “I think I liked  _ fine  _ better _.” _

 

Rick slammed the lid down on the toilet and sat down. Irate tears that he had no control over found their way out and flowed down his face. He could still feel Simon’s disgusting fingers inside the back of his pants. 

 

How could Negan divulge information like that to someone he had known all of five minutes? What was he thinking? It’s not like he’s been in the business for twenty years. This was his first time and most likely his last. No, it  _ was  _ his last. He was determined to do better for himself after this.

 

The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He decided to face Negan man to man rather than hiding out in the bathroom. He was sitting on the bed taking his shoes off when Rick whipped the door open.

 

“Just tell me one thing,” Rick demanded. “Why the hell did you spend thousands of dollars on these new clothes and go through all the trouble of making me get dressed up today?”

 

“Well, for one thing, proper attire is required at an event like that. You can't just fucking show up in whatever and expect —”   
  
“No. That’s not what I mean and you know it!”

 

“No, Rick. I don’t know anything of the motherfucking kind. Why don’t you enlighten me. What the fuck is up your ass?”

 

“What I mean is, if you were gonna tell everyone that I’m a prostitute, why didn’t you just let me wear my own clothes? Why did you bother trying to turn me into something I'm not if you were just planning on making fun of me for what I really am?”

 

“I did not — I did not —” Negan couldn’t find room to defend himself through the barrage of Rick’s shouting.

 

“If I were in my own clothes, and some guy like Simon came up to me, I could have handled it! I would have been prepared! But  _ this _ … this ain't me!” 

 

Rick walked away only to turn around and come right back. 

 

“He wants to fuck me. Did he tell you that? He made it  _ abundantly _ clear to me, Negan. He’s a real gentleman though. He's willing to wait until  _ you’re finished with me _ . His words! Not mine! He practically stuck his hand down the back my pants! How do you think that makes me feel?”

 

“Rick,” Negan tried again. “I’m sorry. I’m so  _ fucking _ sorry. Believe me, I’m not happy with Simon at all right now for saying or doing that shit. But he is my partner. He’s my friend. I’ve known him for 10 motherfucking years. He thought you were one of Greene’s goddamn flunkies. I had to tell him the truth.”

 

_ The truth.  _

 

“You think you’re my pimp now?” Rick asked. “Y-you think you can just pass me around to your friends? I’m not some little toy that you and your privileged pals get to take turns with!”

 

“You’re not my t— “

 

Rick took off toward the bathroom again.

 

“I know you're not my toy.”  _ Rick _ . Rick! I’m fucking talking to you! Get your ass back here!”

 

He stopped and turned around. He was visibly shaking. His teeth were clenched and both hands were balled tightly into fists. 

 

“I hate to point out the obvious here,” Negan said. “But here’s a goddamn newsflash for you. You are, in fact, a hooker! Are you fucking not? Isn’t that how you ended up here? And, let me also remind you, you are my employee! I hired you! You fucking work _for_ _me_!”

 

“You don’t own me!” Rick screamed, so close to Negan's face, the tips of their noses touched. “I decide! Me! I’m my own fucking boss! I say who! I say when! And I fucking say how much!”

 

“That’s enough goddammit!” Negan snapped. “I refuse to spend the next three days fighting with you over this! What the hell else do you want me to do? I said I was sorry and I fucking meant it! That’s the end of it!”

 

Negan’s words were beyond insensitive. He caused this, yet had the nerve to play the victim. His apology meant nothing. 

 

“I’m sorry I ever met you.” Rick’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry I ever got into your fucking car.” 

 

“Yeah, Rick. I’m sure you had a shit-ton of much more appealing offers waiting for you that night.”

 

Rick picked up some clothes, throwing them over his arm. “No matter what offers I might have received that night if you hadn't come along, I'm sure they wouldn't have made me feel as worthless as you did today. Or as cheap.” 

 

Negan laughed. “I find that very hard to believe.”

 

Rick glared at him before tearing off the suit he was wearing and discarding it in the floor. He slipped his torn jeans on and stepped into his old boots. 

 

Negan's position softened. “W-where are you going?”

 

“Give me my fucking money. I don't want to be around you anymore.”

 

They both stood in silence, Rick refusing to make eye contact. He had his leather jacket and one new change of clothes draped over his arm, leaving the rest behind. He didn't want them. 

 

Negan finally walked over to his briefcase. He pulled out a thick envelope and threw it on the bed. Rick, waiting until Negan walked into the living room, looked down. The envelope had his name written on it. 

 

He reached out to pick it up, but something stopped him. He knew if he took that money, he was exactly what Negan said he was. He also knew how badly he needed it. Knew what it meant to his future. But he couldn't force himself to pick it up. He was not a hooker. Ignoring the envelope, he walked out the door. 

 

Negan shuddered at the eerie silence that suddenly embraced the room. 

 

 _“Fuck,”_ Negan cursed to himself _._

 

Why did he have to say anything to Simon? Rick was a good person. He didn't deserve that. 

 

He glanced back toward the bedroom. He could see that Rick had left the money-stuffed envelope behind. He couldn't let him leave like this. 

 

Rick hit the down button for the elevator over and over. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” 

 

The doors couldn't open soon enough. He wanted as far away from this hotel, and as far away from Negan, as he could get.

 

Negan bolted out of the room, slowing down only when he saw Rick was still in the hall. He joined him in front of the elevator. 

 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I wasn't prepared to answer questions about us. I just… it was stupid of me, Rick. It was fucking cruel. I-I didn't mean to tell him.”

 

Rick stared blankly ahead at the elevator doors, his jaw muscles working overtime to prevent his bottom lip from quivering. 

 

“I don't want you to go,” Negan continued. “Please stay. Stay the week.”

 

“Why?” Rick's voice was a broken, airy breath. 

 

Negan sighed. “I saw you talking to Maggie today. I didn't like it. Then you hugged her… I don't know. I just… I didn't like it.”

 

God how he hated to admit that. But he was. He was jealous. Maggie was a happily married woman. There was nothing romantic whatsoever between she and Rick. 

 

“We were _just_ _talking_.” Rick argued. “I like her. As a friend.”

 

Negan huffed out a small laugh and shook his head. “I just didn't like it. It did something to me. I can't explain it.”

 

The elevator dinged and the doors finally opened. The operator stepped forward. 

 

“Down?”

 

Negan looked to Rick. 

 

He could end this right now. Get in that elevator and ride it down. Be that much closer to home. That much further away from Negan. 

 

He looked at him.  _ Goddammit _ . 

 

Rick shook his head no to the elevator operator and followed Negan back into the room.

 

***

 

Negan held Rick’s face in his hands. He traced the salt-stained streaks that lined his cheeks with his thumbs. Shockwaves of shame invaded him, filling him to capacity, leaving no room for his previous feelings of anger and jealousy. 

 

They had three days left together. The only thing Negan wanted to do right now, in this moment,  was kiss him. Kiss him like he would never have another chance. He tilted his face and leaned in, yet kept himself braced for the possibility of rejection.

 

No matter how prepared he  _ thought  _ he was, when the sting of rejection came in the form of Rick backing away just before their lips connected, it leveled him. Negan searched his eyes. The questions he saw inhabiting that blue-eyed stare nearly brought him to his knees.

 

“Rick?”

 

“You hurt me, Negan.”

 

“I kn-I know I did,” Negan stuttered nervously, closing his eyes. “I fucked up.”

 

“Don’t you  _ ever  _ do it again.”

 

Negan took Rick’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers together. “I won’t,” he whispered. “I fucking promise you that.”

 

Rick, meeting his sorrowful gaze, gave him a small, forgiving nod before taking a step forward, closing the gap he had created between them. 

 

Negan, for the first time in his life, was intimidated by someone. It not only impressed him, it excited him. Rick seemed to awaken something inside of him that he wasn’t even aware he possessed.

 

Leaning forward, a faint smile curving his lips, Negan kissed him. One mouth caressing the other with infinite tenderness. Breaking the kiss, he wrapped his arms around Rick, holding him close against his chest. 

 

“Thank you for staying,” he breathed.

 

Rick looked up, keeping his arms around Negan's waist. “I want something from you in return.”

 

“Whatever you want. More money? Another shopping trip? Just say the word, and it’s yours.”

 

“No,” Rick sighed. “Nothing like  _ that _ .”

 

“What else is there?” 

 

Negan's mindset was so materialistic, he thought every dilemma could be solved with the right amount of money. While Rick knew he was very generous, he wanted something money couldn't buy. He wanted time.  _ His _ time. 

 

“I want a real date,” Rick said. “Not a business meeting. Not a business dinner. Not a business  _ mingling  _ where your friends try to pick me up. I want you to take me somewhere special.”

 

“Special?” Negan smiled. “Special I can fucking do. Is tomorrow okay?”

 

“Not tonight?”   
  


“Good things come to those who wait.”

 

Rick wrapped his arms around Negan’s waist and buried his face in his chest. “I hope you're right.”

 

***

 

“You still awake, Rick?” Negan whispered, opening the bedroom door. 

 

He rolled his eyes at his own question. It was nearing two o'clock in the morning, of course he wasn’t awake. 

 

Negan wanted to work a little while on the Greene takeover before meeting with Simon in the morning. At 10:30, Rick showered and went to bed. 

 

He hadn't planned on working so late, but once he started crunching numbers and making arrangements, Negan lost all track of time. He undressed and eased into bed quietly, trying his best to not disturb Rick.

 

“I didn't mean the things I said today.” Rick's voice cut through the darkness like a knife. He sounded so vulnerable and  so fragile, Negan feared if he touched him, he would shatter.

 

“Have you been waiting for me all night?”

 

“Couldn't sleep.” Rick's words from earlier had weighed heavy on him since he went to bed. “I was pissed. I… I didn't mean it.”

 

“Rick, it's—”

 

“When I said I was sorry I ever met you, it was out of anger. I didn't mean it.”

 

Negan sighed deeply. “Listen to me. You had every fucking right in the world to be pissed off at me. I don't want you to feel bad for it. Honestly, I deserved a hell of a lot worse after what I did.”

 

The urge to reach out and touch him was too powerful to resist any longer. Using the back of his fingers, he stroked his across his cheekbone and down his jawline. Rick let his eyes drift closed and leaned into the touch, seeking more. 

 

His caressing fingers were soon replaced with lips, traveling the same path against his skin, peppering him with barely-there kisses. 

 

“I've never met anyone so fucking beautiful,” Negan whispered against his ear. 

 

Rick's blood began to move like lava through his veins, dense and molten, as their lips met, slowly and intimately. 

 

“ _ Negan _ .”

 

The desperate sound of his name on Rick's lips was too much. He looked down at his face. Even in the dark, he could see the need in his eyes. He was making him feel things he didn't want to feel. Making him want things he simply couldn't have. 

 

He was struggling with the emotions brewing inside him. It scared him. He didn't think he could do this anymore. But when Rick raised his hands to his face, calling his name again, he forgot everything. 

 

***

 

Two bodies, wet with sweat and still trembling, lie face to face in the moonlit room, immersed in the afterglow of their lovemaking. 

 

“Can I ask you a question, Rick?”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“How did someone like you end up where you are now?”

 

They lay silent for a while, making Negan assume he didn't want to talk about it. That he  _ couldn't  _ talk about it. He opened his mouth to apologize for asking such a personal question when Rick took a deep breath. Negan waited. 

 

“Lori, my wife, she resented me. I couldn't give her the children she'd always wanted. Reminded me everyday how worthless I was  _ because _ of that. I guess, after awhile, I… I started to believe it myself. Anyway she… she was seeing another man. I knew about it - of course I knew. It’d been going on for months, and people talk.”

 

Rick shifted, resting his head on his forearm. “I… I just wanted to get back at her. Make _her_ feel all the hurt she made me feel. I knew this guy from work. _Knew_ he had a crush on me since we started working together. I used that. Used _him_. I lead him on. I brought him into our house.”

 

He paused for a minute, swallowing hard. 

 

“I planned the whole thing. I knew she would be coming home. I let him fuck me. In our bed. I cried the entire time.”

 

Negan could see the hurt starting to surface. 

 

“I knew it was wrong. But I wanted her to catch me. She came home right in the middle of it. I thought she'd cry and beg me to end things with Aaron. And then she'd promise to end things with Shane.”

 

“That's not what happened?” 

 

“She picked up my gun and tried to shoot me. Felt the bullet go right past my face. Aaron, he left, and we had it out. Told her I knew about Shane.”

 

Rick took a deep, shaky breath. 

 

“She didn't even  _ try _ to deny it. Said Shane was a better man than I was and she was carrying his baby. She threw me out of the house. Well I… I couldn't go back to work. Not with Shane and Aaron there. I lived in my car and off of what money I had.”

 

“Didn't you have friends or family members that you could have stayed with?” 

 

“Everyone sided with Lori. I disgraced my family by sleeping with a man. I had nowhere to go. I called up the one friend who I knew wouldn't judge me. Daryl. He was a _male_ _escort_. That's what he called it. Made it sound so great. Said the money was good.”

 

Rick managed a small laugh.  

 

“But  _ Daryl _ … Daryl likes to have fun. He has this habit of spending most of what he makes on booze instead of paying the bills. He took me in. Told me if we worked together, we would have an endless supply of cash. I… I tried to find work in other places first. Fast food restaurants. I even parked cars at wrestling events. Just couldn't make enough money.”

 

“And that's when you decided on your current profession?”

 

“Yeah,” Rick whispered. “It wasn't an easy decision. But when you get hungry enough —”

 

Rick's voice broke. 

 

“You could be so much more, Rick.” 

 

There was enough light filtering through the window for him to see a tear drip off the bridge of his nose.

 

“When people put you down enough, you start to believe it. It stays with you. Becomes part of who you are.”

 

“You're not fucking worthless, Rick. You could be anything you wanted to be. I  _ know _ you could. I think  _ you…  _ are a very bright, very special man _. _ ”

 

Negan watched a short-lived smile curve his lips before his mouth turned and he shook his head in disagreement. 

 

“The bad stuff is easier to believe.”

 

Negan held his hand as he watched his heavy, wet eyes slip shut. He knew Rick had been hurt. The damage was quite visible. But he had no idea how deep that wound was. 

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Rick opened his eyes to another note on the vacant, indented pillow beside him. He released a deep, disappointed sigh. What he wanted, when he woke up, was to see  _ Negan. _

 

While he did understand that Negan hired him to be at  _ his  _ beck and call, joining him at social functions and business dinners, the desire for more was beyond his control. 

 

He was well aware that he was getting attached to a temporary situation. He knew feeling this way was only going to make it harder when they went their separate ways. 

 

Maybe Negan had the right idea after all. His being here  _ was _ , in fact, a business deal. Daryl's and Negan's words kept coming back to him.  _ Don't get emotionally involved.  _ Was it too late?

  
  


_ Rick, _

 

_ (210-B Northlake Drive) _

 

_ Give this address to Jerry.  _

_ I’ll meet you there at 2 pm.  _

  
  


_ Negan _

  
  
  


***

 

“What the hell?” Simon snapped at the secretary holding a stack of legal documents. “Negan hasn't signed these yet?”

 

“No, sir. He said he was leaving early today.”

 

“You can't be fucking serious.”

 

Negan came out of the office with his briefcase in tow. 

 

“ _ Negan _ . You can't disappear now, we're in this shit too deep. We —”

 

“Don't panic, Simon. Greene isn't fucking going anywhere tonight. I'll be back here first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

“This can’t be happening,” Simon mumbled, throwing his hands up in disgust.

 

“Did you get the tickets?” Negan asked the secretary. 

 

“Yes, sir.” She handed him an envelope. “It wasn't easy, but I pulled some strings.”

 

“ _ Ah _ .” Negan kissed the envelope. “You are beautiful, Olivia. If I didn't think you would slap me, I would fucking kiss you.”

 

“Jesus Christ!” Simon shouted. “Y-you're leaving? You’re  _ really  _ fucking leaving. I can't— where are you going? What the hell could be so goddamned important?”

 

“I have a date.”

 

“I can't believe this. We're  _ this fucking close  _ to finishing this thing and you're willing to risk everything to play house with some hooker? He’s a worthless whore, Negan.”

 

Negan stopped dead at the door, latching onto the knob and clenching his jaw. He turned around and walked back to Simon, looking him in the eye. His face was red with rage and, were it physically possible, his hard, angry stare would have gutted him on the spot.

 

“Don't you _ever_ fucking call him that again. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Simon was to angry to respond with words. He nodded his head in agreement. 

 

“That's good, Simon. And if it ever happens again, you will not be this fucking lucky. I don't want to hurt you, but I will not allow you to speak about Rick that way.”

 

***

 

“You sure this is the right place?” Rick asked the chauffeur, looking out the window of the limousine. “I was supposed to meet Negan. This is a… _tuxedo_ _shop_.”

 

Jerry assured him that he was, in fact, at the right address. 

 

A tuxedo shop? The kind of date he had in mind did not involve a tux. This was all wrong. Why did everything have to be such an extravagant affair? Was Negan so far gone that he couldn’t see and appreciate the simple things in life? 

 

From what Rick has experienced during the last few days, the view from the top wasn’t all that great. A world chock-full of judgmental, pushy assholes. Restaurants with inedible food and a ridiculous amount of silverware. Where asking for a bottle of ketchup is considered a crime punishable by death.

 

Rick would be happy going for a walk in the park, as long as Negan was by his side. Maybe grabbing a burger and sharing a milkshake in a small diner or watching the sunset together. He wasn’t hard to please.

 

After giving the matter some thought, Rick decided he was being ungrateful. Negan had probably invested a lot of time and effort in this date. It wasn’t going to be like the dinner with Hershel, and as long as Simon wasn’t anywhere around, he would enjoy the time spent with Negan.

 

As he walked into the shop and laid eyes on the gorgeous man smiling at him in the black tuxedo, any doubts that he might have harboured about this evening, were quickly dispelled. His air of sophistication and confidence outshone everything around him.

 

“Rick,” Negan extended his arm toward him. “Get in here and let these gentlemen work their magic on you. We’ve got a  _ big  _ evening ahead of us.”

 

Rick was escorted into a dressing room. If he had known he would be undressing in front of strangers, he might have worn a pair of less revealing underwear. The small, red briefs he had on left very little to the imagination. 

 

That embarrassment was short-lived after catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The slate blue tux Negan had picked out for him made his eyes sparkle like jewels. He walked out of the dressing room, confident that he looked amazing, and waited to be showered with compliments.

 

“Well?” Rick worried when the flattering words didn't come, leaving him feeling self-conscious.

 

“Well, what?”

 

“How do I look?”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“That's it? That’s all I get? I look this good and all I get is a  _ hmm _ ?”

 

“No,” Negan replied. “It's just… I don't know. Something's wrong. Something's missing.”

 

Rick looked down and inspected himself carefully, tugging at the crotch of his form-fitting suit. “Well, nothing else is gonna fit into  _ these  _ pants.”

 

Negan pulled a jewelry box out of his jacket pocket. 

 

“There might be something in here to make it complete.”

 

Negan held the box out in front of him, cracking it open, but not enough to reveal its contents. “Now don't get too fucking excited. These are just a loan.”

 

Rick nodded, hovering over the box as it was opened, eager to see what it held inside. He gasped and leaned in closer. 

 

“Are they… are they  _ real _ ?”

 

Nine and a half carats of emerald cut, white diamond cufflinks. Inching his fingers closer, Rick moved in to touch them. Negan couldn't resist. He snapped the box closed on his knuckles, making him yelp before letting go of one of the loudest laughs to escape him in years. 

 

“You fucking scared me.”

 

Negan blinked, and for one fleeting moment, he saw the way he wished Rick could look everyday. His face was brimming with happiness. his smile brighter than the sun, and those brilliant blue eyes of his sparkled with tears from laughing. 

 

Rick had no idea, but that sound, his laughter, was the most beautiful sound Negan had ever heard. 

 

There was such an innocence about it. He didn't care how it happened, but he couldn't wait to hear it again. 

 

***

 

“They really let you borrow these from the jewelry store?” Rick asked as Negan fastened the cufflinks to his tux. “Just like that?”

 

“Do I not have a trustworthy face?”

 

Rick rolled his eyes. “If you  _ were  _ gonna buy ‘em, how much would they cost?” 

 

“Half a million dollars. Well, $540,200 to be exact.”

 

“Holy shit. You're joking. I'm wearing a half a million dollars? On my sleeves? Holy shit.”

 

***

 

Rick sat back, leaning comfortably against Negan’s arm as he watched the scenery go by through the tinted windows of the limousine. “So where are we going?” 

 

“It's a surprise.”

 

“If I forget to tell you later,” Rick whispered, laying his head on Negan’s shoulder. “I had a really good time tonight.”  

 

Rick, even though their evening hadn't officially began, was having a good time. For once, he wasn't worried about tomorrow’s dilemmas or wallowing in yesterday's regrets. Right now, he was exactly where he wanted to be, spending time with Negan. And he planned to savor every second of it. 

 

***

 

“No way.” Rick, sitting up and scooting to the edge of his seat, craned his neck and furrowed his brow, creating a legion of creases on his forehead. “ _No_ _way_.”

 

“ _ Surprise _ .”

 

“Th-that’s not for us.” Rick said in disbelief, as the limousine pulled in next to a jet. “Is it?”

 

“You know a better way to get to New Fucking York in under two hours? 

 

“New York?” Rick asked with an incredulous gasp. “I don’t understand. Why would we —”

 

“I’m taking you to the opera, Rick. And not just any goddamn opera. Opening night for one of the top five greatest operas in the whole fucking world.”

 

***

 

Rick had never been on a plane before. He tried his best to conceal his nerves, but the white-knuckle grip he had on Negan's arm was a dead giveaway. 

 

“You're okay, Rick. I fly this thing all over the fucking world on a weekly basis. You're safe.”

 

“This is yours? You  _ own  _ it?”

 

Negan nodded with a smile. Rick looked around the spacious cabin. The luxury of the jet was incredible. Leather sofas and recliners, a big screen TV, it even had a dining room. Even his jet was nicer than his apartment.

 

“Does it have a bedroom?” Rick looked away quickly, feeling the heat rapidly spreading across his cheeks.

 

“It does.” Negan nudged him with his shoulder. “Maybe I’ll show it to you on our way back.”

 

Rick was sipping his way through a second flute of champagne when Negan picked up a multi functioning remote control. He dimmed the lights and put on some music.

 

“You like Elvis?”

 

Rick shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

  
  
Negan stood and held out his hand.

 

“Come on. You don’t have to be obsessed with Elvis to dance with me.”

 

_ Wise men say _

_ Only fools rush in _

_ But I can't help _

_ Falling in love with you _

_ Shall I stay _

_ Would it be a sin _

_ If I can't help _

_ Falling in love with you _

 

Rick worried Negan would feel the thundering of his heart in his chest as he pressed against him, until he realized, when he rested his head against him, that  _ his _ heart was pounding just as hard.

 

_ Like a river flows _

_ Surely to the sea _

_ Darling so it goes _

_ Some things _

_ Are meant to be _

_ Take my hand _

_ Take my whole life too _

_ For I can't help _

_ Falling in love with you _

 

“Maybe… ” Negan whispered. “Maybe I’ll have to show you that bedroom  _ before  _ we get there.”

 

***

 

“Are we late?” Rick asked, hooking his arm around Negan's as they walked quickly through the grand hallways. 

 

“Nah. Opening night  _ never _ starts on time.”

 

They were lead to their seats in the Imperial Box. Rick was compelled to lean over the edge, his eyes drinking in every aspect of the opera house. 

 

“Hey c’mere,” he called to Negan. “You gotta see this.”

 

Negan, seeing him doubled over at such a high altitude, triggering his phobia, instinctively grabbed the tail of his jacket.

 

“That's okay, Rick. I don’t need to see it. Could you… could you come away from there, please?”

 

“Why didn't you get seats down there since you're afraid of heights?”

 

“Because these are the best.”

 

Rick found the small binoculars after he took his seat. “So, you said this is in Italian?”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“How am I gonna know what they're saying?” He fumbled with the opera glasses, not understanding how they operated. “These are br — my damn binoculars are broken.”

 

Negan laughed quietly, taking the glasses and turning them right side up. 

 

“You'll know, Rick. Believe me. You'll understand it. The music is very powerful.”

 

The lights were dimmed and the collective chatter from the audience slowly faded. 

 

“People's reaction to the opera, the first time they see it, is very dramatic. They either love it, or they hate it. If they love it, they'll always love it. If they don't, well they learn to appreciate it. But it'll never become part of their soul.”

 

Rick was completely absorbed by Negan's words as he spoke so passionately about the opera. So absorbed, in fact, he didn't realize he was still staring at him long after he had finished talking. 

 

The orchestra started suddenly, pulling Rick out his trance with a startled jump.

 

*** 

 

During the first act, Rick had figured out that the main character, Violetta, was a high-class prostitute. There was a party being thrown in her home. 

 

A young man named Alfredo,  whose family was very wealthy, has been fascinated by her for a long time. He  shows up at the party and professes his love for her. 

 

She thinks, because of her occupation, that there is no room for romance and love in her life. She soon understands how very wrong she was. 

 

Rick is so emotionally invested in the music, by the time he realizes the two characters are in love, he’s on the edge of his seat, leaning over the balcony. 

 

In the second act, Violetta moves in with Alfredo, retiring from the escort society. But because of her past, Alfredo’s father demands that she break up with his son to save the family’s high-standing social reputation, convincing her that they couldn’t possibly have a future together. 

 

Their marriage is called off and she leaves their home. Alfredo, knowing nothing about the pressures from his father, blames Violetta for breaking his trust. 

 

She goes back to prostitution that same night. While serving as an escort to a party with a former client, Alfredo shows up and makes accusations in front of the guests. 

 

In the midst of the third and final act, Violetta becomes bedridden. She's ill with a serious disease. She had known about it since she lived with Alfredo. She was dying. 

 

Alfredo, after learning the truth about his father, rushes to be with her. But he's too late. As Violetta takes her last breath, her final moments are spent reflecting on the time she had with him. 

 

Negan looked to Rick, noticing the obvious look of dejection on his face. 

 

“You okay?”

  
  
Rick attempted a half-hearted nod and smile  before giving up and allowing himself to fall apart, no longer trying to hold back the tears.

 

“They fell in love,” he whispered, accepting a handkerchief from Negan. “They fell in love and it got taken away. He lost her. That’s just not fair.”

  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Rick was still in a state of anxious uncertainty after the plane landed and Jerry brought them back to the hotel. His restless mind couldn’t seem to focus on anything other than Violetta and Alfredo.

 

“That opera, Negan. It just… it got under my skin.”

 

“No.” Negan smiled knowingly. “It’s in your soul. Like I fucking said.”

 

But it was more than that. It was the fact that Negan had flown them nearly eight-hundred miles to see  _ that particular  _ opera. Why? An opera about a prostitute who meets and falls in love with a wealthy man she’s forbidden to be with. It was simply too coincidental. To make matters worse, there was no happy ending. It ended in tragedy. 

 

Was this Negan’s attempt to convey some sort of cryptic message to him? That they could never be anything beyond what they had this week? Rick was suddenly reminded of the words Negan had said to him after their first night together.  _ “One week, ten-thousand dollars, and I will let you go.”  _

 

Everything inside of Rick screamed at him to ask Negan about the similarities between the opera and their circumstances. But at the same time, he told himself that he might be reading too much into it.

 

Did he really want to make such an accusation when what little time they had left together was dwindling down? Did he really want to risk another fight? 

 

Maybe the best thing to do was say nothing about the matter at all. If they were meant to see each other after this week was said and done, so be it. Otherwise, he would hurt for a while and just move on with his life. He's been there before. 

 

“Simon lost his fucking shit today when I left work early.” Negan laughed. “Shocked quite a few people, I’m sure.”

 

“Why don’t you shock them even more?” Rick suggested, nervously tapping his fingers as he looked at him from across the table.

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“Why don’t you...  _ not  _ go to work tomorrow. At all. Just take the day off.”

 

“ _ Me _ not work? Are you fucking serious?”

 

“Yeah. I could take  _ you _ out. Show you my ways. No private jet required. Just you and me and a few bucks in our pocket.”

 

“I don't know, Rick.” Negan was already shaking his head. 

 

Rick had just experienced one of the best evenings of his life, even if it did leave him with a trove of unanswered questions. But still, he wanted more. 

 

It was a long shot. He knew that the chances of Negan taking the entire day off to be with him were slim and none. It could have been nice. 

 

“It's okay,” Rick sighed, staring pensively into his half-empty glass of champagne. “It was just an idea.”

 

***

 

Simon shoved his hand deep into his pocket,  angrily rattling his keys after getting Negan’s voicemail for the fifth time. All morning, he had paced back and forth across the tiled floor waiting for him to show up. 

 

They had only a handful of minor details remaining in the Hershel Greene deal, all of which required either his signature or his authorization, bringing the finalization to a grinding halt without him. 

 

Footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway. 

 

“It’s about goddamn time,” Simon hissed as the knob turned and the door slowly opened. “Where the fuck have you—”

 

Olivia stepped into the room clutching a stack of papers.

 

“Here are the reports you asked for. Oh, and Negan called.”

 

“Well, what the hell did he say?” Simon made no effort to camouflage his impatience and frustration. “Is he on his way?”

 

“He said to tell you he’s taking the day off.”

 

“Taking the day off?” Simon questioned, reciting her words in disbelief. 

 

Negan hadn’t taken a day off in the ten years Simon had known him. The message of him not coming in today, today of  _ all days _ , was a bitter pill to swallow. Gritting his teeth and kicking a nearby trashcan out of his way, he reached for his phone again.

 

***

 

The sound of Negan’s phone vibrating violently against the top of the nightstand was enough to rouse Rick from a deep sleep. Naked, warm and simply too comfortable to move, he granted his eyes permission to close again.

 

“Good morning.”

 

Rick’s sleepy eyes shot open. “You’re still here.” He curled tighter into his cradling arms.

 

“I am,” Negan chuckled. “That was Simon calling again. I imagine right about now he’s in the middle of throwing a goddamn tantrum because I’m not at work.

 

“Well no wonder.” Rick raised his head, squinting at the clock. “You’re late.”

 

“I’m not late. I’m not going.”

 

“Really?”

 

“ _ Really _ . I own the fucking company, Rick. What are they gonna do?”

 

“You took the day off for me?” 

 

“Nope. I took the day off for us.”

 

_ Us _ .

 

Rick’s blood hammered through his veins thanks to his rapidly pounding heart. Meeting Negan’s gaze, he saw something different flickering in his eyes. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was certainly something that wasn’t there before.

 

***

 

Rick stepped out of the bedroom wearing a crisp white button-down that was casually tucked into his new jeans. He doubled over with laughter as soon as he took in the sight of Negan shrugging on his suit jacket.

 

“What’s so goddamn funny?”

 

“ _ You _ ,” Rick wheezed. “This is all wrong.”

 

He loosened his tie knot, pulling it from his collar and dropping it over the back of a chair. “Take the jacket off, too.” 

 

“You fucking expect me to go out naked? I only have suits with me, Rick. I wasn’t expecting to have any downtime.”

 

“I can fix it,” he assured him. “If you'll just cooperate and let me.” Unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt, tugging and pulling until it laid open just right, Rick exposed the upper part of his broad chest, giving a sample of dark chest hair.

 

Negan watched him as he dutifully rolled up his sleeves, just below his elbows.  

 

“Now.” Rick smiled, examining his work. “That's  _ much  _ better.”

 

***

 

Negan's cell phone continued to buzz inside his briefcase as he and Rick strode hand in hand through the park. 

 

“Why'd you have to bring that thing with you?”

 

Rick had asked him to leave his phone and briefcase at the hotel. But he insisted, promising to only use it if he had to. Working, for Negan, was going to be a hard habit to break, even for one day.

 

“It can't really be considered a day off if you take your work with you.”

 

“I told you, something important might come up.”

 

Negan spread a blanket underneath the secluded hideaway of a large willow tree. Rick sat down in the grass, taking off his shoes and socks. 

 

“The hell are you doing?” Negan asked, staring at him through narrow eyes. “You're gonna step on something and cut your feet. Or you’re gonna fucking step  _ in _ something and  _ wish _ you'd stepped on something and cut your feet.”

 

Rick looked up, the afternoon sun filtering through the drooping limbs and shining brightly on his face. “When is the last time you felt the grass between your toes? Something tells me it’s been a while.”

 

Negan sat down on the blanket, propping himself up against the tree trunk. The infuriating sound of his vibrating cell continued inside his briefcase. 

 

“He's a persistent son of a bitch. I better take this or he'll call me all fucking day.”

 

“He _has_.” 

 

Rick was irritated but decided not to make a fuss. Instead, he gave himself the go-ahead to rummage through the belongings of Negan’s briefcase. Finding a tin of breath mints, he popped one into his mouth before thumbing through a book of Shakespeare sonnets.

 

“The case will  _ not  _ fucking fall through if I miss one day,” Negan argued, holding the phone away from his ear to reduce the level of shouting on the other end. “Okay, one and a half days. No.  _ No _ . I already warned you not to fucking talk about him like that. He’s got nothing to do with th—”

 

Rick had heard enough. He took the phone out of Negan’s hand and, with one tap, ended the call. Ended the harassment and ended their interruption. He powered the phone off and buried it under his paperwork. 

 

“That’s only gonna piss him off more, Rick.”

 

Rick settled on his knees in front of Negan, untying his shoes and pulling them from his feet. “Do we care?” 

 

Negan stared on as he peeled his socks away, moving the blanket back and planting his feet directly into the plush, green grass.

 

“Actually, I don't wanna talk about Simon anymore? I want you to read to me.”

 

Rick tossed the book he’d found in his briefcase down by Negan’s leg, making himself comfortable at his side and resting his cheek against his chest. “Just read whatever. I only wanna lay here and listen to your voice.”

 

Negan felt more at peace and relaxed in these last few minutes than he has in  _ years _ . The soft blades of grass shooting up between his toes and a warm, firm body pressed up against him. There was a comforting breeze  blowing around the cooling smell of rushing water and freshly-mown grass.

 

Instead of obsessing about money and his mind being preoccupied with taking apart someone’s business, he found himself wishing for time. More time spent just like this. Taking the book, he cleared his throat and turned to the page he always kept dog-eared. 

  
  


_ “When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, _ _   
_ _ I all alone beweep my outcast state, _ _   
_ _ And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, _ _   
_ _ And look upon myself, and curse my fate, _ _   
_ _ Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, _ _   
_ _ Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, _ _   
_ _ Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, _ _   
_ _ With what I most enjoy contented least; _ _   
_ _ Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, _ _   
_ _ Haply I think on thee, and then my state, _ _   
_ _ Like to the lark at break of day arising _ _   
_ _ From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate; _ _   
_ _ For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings _ _   
_ __ That then I scorn to change my state with kings.”

  
  


Rick remained quiet. Was Negan doing this on purpose? He had to be. First the opera, now the sonnet. A man down on his luck and shunned by everyone around him. A man who basically has nothing and is resentful of those who have. A man who’s wallowing in his own self-hatred, until he thinks about another. About the one he loves. Then, and  _ only then, _ does he realize his own true wealth. 

 

He was doing it again. Overthinking and overanalyzing. He couldn't help it. But this time, Rick feared he was giving himself a false sense of hope. Negan did seem different somehow, but would it change anything?

 

Sheltered from the hot midday sun, the Shakespearean perusal resumed. As the afternoon trickled by, Rick thought he would never tire of hearing him read. Between the sound of Negan’s deep, smoky voice and the serenity surrounding them, Rick was lulled into a state of deep-rooted contentment, dozing in and out of a light sleep.

 

***

 

“Hey, Rick. Let’s roll our pants up, go down to where the water is calm and go wading. I haven’t done that shit since I was a teenager.”

 

Negan wasn’t sure what had come over him. Acting on a nonsensical whim is not something he was accustomed to. He was used to strict routines and schedules. Not doing anything unless it was penciled in on a planner. 

 

Yet with Rick, he found himself wanting to do those kinds of things. Things he would have never even considered before. Like having sex on a dinner table, flying over seven-hundred miles just to see an opera or putting his bare feet into stagnant water containing God knows what. 

 

He imagined Rick thought he did this sort of thing all the time. That it was just the kind of devil-may-care life he lived. But in truth, he was the epitome of dull. He bored  _ himself.  _ Day in and day out, he was exclusively paperwork, phone calls and meetings.

 

He needed someone like Rick in his life. But he knew he couldn’t force himself to make the necessary changes to make that work. He had his company to think about. 

 

When they reached the river's edge, Negan waded in without hesitation, the water cool enough to send a shiver up his spine. He noticed Rick studying the water cautiously. 

 

“What are you waiting for? You scared?”

 

“No.” The cool water lapped at his toes tauntingly, making him step back. “I just... don’t wanna get my clothes wet. I’m hungry. Thought we could go get something to eat when we leave here.”

 

Truth be told, Rick  _ was  _ scared. Not of the water itself, just of getting his clothes dirty. Now that he had nice things to wear, he wanted to keep them nice.

 

Negan laughed. “It’s only ankle deep right here, Rick. I don’t think you have any fucking thing to worry about.”

 

“I’m good right here.” 

 

“If I have to come and get you, your ass  _ is  _ getting wet. I will pick you up and throw you in this fucking river.”

 

“You ain’t strong enough,” Rick laughed, bending over and splashing him in the face with water. “You couldn’t even carry me to the bed, remember?”

 

Negan smiled that warm, charming smile of his and waded back in Rick’s direction. “Is that fucking so?”

 

“Don’t you touch me.” Rick held his hands out defensively. “I’m… _I’m_ _sorry_.”

 

“You’re gonna be.”

 

Scooping up two more handfuls of water, Rick splashed him again before turning around and running back up the grassy riverbank. 

 

Negan laughed, witnessing Rick comically trip and tumble over an exposed tree root. “I hope you know how to fucking swim.”

 

“Please don’t.” 

 

Negan moved in slowly,  _ carefully _ like a predator stalking its wounded prey, giving him the  chance to get away. Rick remained seated in the grass. He laughed but his eyes were pleading for sympathy. 

 

Seeming to have a change of heart, Negan offered his hand to help him to his feet. Rick, letting his guard down to brush off the back of his pants, was suddenly lifted off of the ground and hoisted over Negan’s shoulder.

 

“You bastard,” Rick laughed. “You tricked me.”

 

Wiggling and floundering around, Rick hoped with enough movement Negan would drop him on the ground instead of in the river. But the tell-tale sounds of splashing told him he was too late. Negan was already knee-deep in the water. 

 

_ “Negan.”  _

 

Rick's grip around Negan's body tightened just as he went to drop him, sending both of them down into the cool water. 

 

After Rick got over the initial shock of the situation,  he took one look at Negan and laughed hysterically. 

 

Negan remembered that laugh from before. He also remembered thinking how much he wanted to hear it again, no matter how it happened. Even if it left him sitting waist-deep in a cold river. It was worth it. 

 

“Serves you right,” Rick said with another splash of water to Negan's face. 

 

He should have been furious. The businessman with the hot headed temper from New York would have been. But here, with Rick, Negan felt like a teenager again. 

 

They laughed and splashed and kissed each other in the water before going back to their hideaway under the willow tree to dry off a little on the blanket. 

 

***

 

Rick, pulled Negan's Camaro into the parking lot of a retro diner. Every edge of the building was trimmed in neon lights. It reminded him of something from an old 50s sitcom. 

 

“Are we really going in here with these wet clothes?”

 

“We are.” Rick smiled, swinging the car keys around on his finger. “I'm starving.”

 

The inside of the diner was just as dated as the outside. Negan felt as if he'd stepped back in time. Red vinyl booths, a checkered floor  _ and  _ a jukebox. A  _ working _ jukebox. 

 

Feeling out of place and out of practice with this type of setting, Negan let Rick order their food. He gaped at the sight of the heaping plates of ribs and fries that were delivered to their table. 

 

The waitress, taking notice of their wet clothes, smiled at Rick.

 

“The weatherman said it was supposed to be sunny all day today. How in the world did you boys end up all wet?”

 

Rick laughed and shifted against the vinyl booth. Just the mention of their wet clothes made his underwear cling to him even more uncomfortably than they already were. “We were baptized this afternoon.”

 

Negan's eyes went wide hearing Rick's brazen lie. He placed his hand over his mouth, biting into his fingers to stifle his laughter. 

 

“Oh.” The waitress looked at both of them and dramatically clutched at her chest. “That is just wonderful.”

 

Negan waited until the waitress was well out of earshot. “Baptized?”

 

“What?” Rick shrugged carelessly. “I panicked.”

 

Negan laughed and turned his attention to the food in front of him, his mouth was watering. “Damn this looks good. Where's the silverware?”

 

“Right here.” Rick winked, wiggling his fingers.

 

They ate. They laughed. They talked. Surrounded by such a laid-back setting, they found it easier to open up, getting to know each other better.

 

When Negan excused himself to the restroom, hoping to wipe away any remaining barbecue sauce on his face, Rick had a craving for something sweet.

 

“What’s this?” Negan asked, returning to their booth.

 

“Dessert.” Rick had ordered one vanilla milkshake, with  _ two straws _ . “It’s called sweetheart sipping.” A bright shade of pink washed over his face when his brain registered what he had said.

 

“Is that what we are?” Negan teased. “Are we...  _ sweethearts _ ?”

 

The bright pink quickly turned to scarlet. Rick covered his face with his hand, unleashing a hushed giggle against his palm. They might not be what one would consider  _ proper sweethearts _ , but damn if everything about this date didn’t make it feel that way. The memories from today would never be forgotten… by either of them.

 

***

 

“Look where we are,” Rick said, pointing to the spot where he and Negan first met. 

 

Passing The Vortex, Daryl’s favorite bar and his home away from home, Rick couldn’t help but think about him. He’d tried everyday to reach him without success. Not only to check on him, but to find out why he never picked up the money he left for him at the front desk. 

 

But he would always get the same intercept message.  _ We’re sorry. You have reached a number that is disconnected or that is no longer in service.  _ Trying his cell phone proved to be just as useless. Daryl had lost his service shortly after Rick lost his. 

 

“What the fuck is with you, Rick. You’re fidgeting. More importantly, you’re fidgeting while driving my car.”

 

“There’s a bar back there. Would you mind if I swing back around and see if Daryl’s there? I haven’t been able to reach him in a few days. I’m a little worried about him.”

 

“I don’t mind. Why would I mind?”

 

Negan didn’t question why Rick had pulled into the back alley instead of parking out in front. 

 

“I’ll just be a minute.”

 

Rick sifted through the countless faces in the smoky atmosphere but saw no signs of Daryl  _ or  _ his friend Paul. His only other option was to talk to the bartender.

 

“Damn, you lookin’ good. What you do, win the lottery or somethin’, Rick?”

 

“Hi, Pops. Thanks. Have you seen Daryl?”

 

“He went to Savannah with that new boyfriend of his. Jesus, I think is what everyone calls him.”

 

“Why would he… do you know  _ why  _ he left?”

 

“The Vatos Gang is looking for him. Guillermo and his boys have been hanging out here every night waiting for him to get back.”

 

“What the hell do they want with Daryl?”

 

“They claim he owes them some money. Said he worked their street and cost his hookers two-hundred dollars.”

 

“Shit.” Rick wrote his room and phone number down on a cocktail napkin. “Here’s where I’ll be for the next couple days. Have him call me or come by if ya see him, okay?”

 

“You got it.”

 

As soon as he walked back out to the unlit alley, Rick found himself surrounded by four members of The Vatos.

 

“I think you owe me some money,  _ Rick. _ Two-hundred dollars. And you ain’t goin’ no place until I get it.”   
  


“I don’t owe you shit,” Rick hissed.

 

Negan, seeing the small group of men huddled around Rick, reached behind him and furtively pulled his weapon of choice up front, making sure it was out of sight.

 

“Everything alright,” he asked, rolling down the passenger side window.

 

“Shut the fuck up and mind your damn business, homeboy.” 

 

“He’s a pimp, Negan. He’s got some beef with Daryl.”

 

Guillermo turned back to Rick. “Word on the street is you got yourself a new job. Your boy Daryl ain’t here to man-up and pay his dues. I want my fuckin’ money. Either you give it to me, or I’ll take it out of your ass.”

 

“Whoa!” Negan snapped. “Did you just fucking threaten him?”

 

“The fuck are you gonna do about it? There’s four of us, prick.”

 

“Oh I don’t know,” Negan said, swinging the door open and stepping out of the car. “I think the three of  _ us  _ can handle the four of  _ you _ pussies.”

 

“Three?” Guillermo questioned, examining the backseat of the car. “You’re dumber than you look. Ain’t but two of y’all and you ain’t nothin’ but a couple of tricks.

 

“I am not a fucking trick.  _ This…  _ this is a trick.” He swung the bat that was concealed behind his leg over his shoulder and put himself between Rick and the four of them. “ _ Three _ of us. You want some?”

 

Guillermo instructed his gang to back up and let them pass. 

 

“Don’t you  _ ever  _ go near him again. Do I make myself fucking understood? If you have a problem with Daryl, you find  _ Daryl  _ and you take it up with him.”

 

Rick, too shaky to drive, handed Negan the keys and got in on the passenger side. 

 

“Rick,” Negan sighed. “You’re not safe out here. I don’t want you working the streets anymore.”

 

Rick looked out the window but remained quiet.

 

“Promise me.”

 

“I already made that decision, Negan.”

 

“Promise me anyway.”

 

“Okay,” Rick whispered. “I promise.”

  
  



	14. Chapter 14

Negan opened the bathroom door and stepped out, a cloud of steam following behind him into the bedroom. After drying his hair and body, he wrapped the towel around his waist and headed into the living room. As Rick walked by, he caught him from behind and slipped his arms around him, pulling him flush against his body.

 

“I wanna thank you for today.” Rick could feel the heat from his shower-fresh skin through his shirt. “I haven’t enjoyed myself like that in… goddamn it’s been a long ass time. Felt good to just fucking let go.”   
  
Rick turned in his arms, peering up at him through his dark lashes. “It  _ was _ fun.” He placed a hand against his chest, trailing and winding his fingers down, slipping under the damp towel. “It doesn’t have to be over yet, does it?”

 

“No,” Negan breathed, his head falling back as Rick’s knuckles stroked up and down his length. 

 

“You like that?”

 

“Yes.”   
  
Rick wrapped his hand around him, thumbing the warm, sensitive flesh underneath. “How ‘bout  _ that _ ?”

 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Negan said, the air hissing through his teeth. “Fuck yes.”

 

Rick flashed a pleased smile feeling Negan shudder against him as his thumb grazed over his silken tip, wiping away a bead of leaking moisture. Buckling under his touch, Negan buried his face in Rick’s hair, breathing in his scent.

 

“Rick.”

 

“Yeah?” Rick looked up, expecting to hear praises of how good his hand felt wrapped around his hard, hot length.

 

“You need to go shower.  _ Now _ . You smell like fishy baptism water and a rack of ribs.”

 

Rick dropped his hand and laughed against his neck. “Whose fault is that?”

 

“Yours. If you had just gone wading with me like I asked you to, neither fucking one of us would have gotten anything other than our feet wet.”

 

“Fine,” Rick sighed. “You get comfy, and I'll be out in about ten minutes.”

 

“Better make it fifteen,” Negan teased, holding his nose.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Negan grabbed his briefcase and padded back to the bedroom. Adjusting the pillows against the headboard, he inhaled deeply then exhaled with a long relaxed sigh, letting his body sink into the plush comfort. He never imagined a day off from work could leave him this exhausted. 

 

After attempting to rub the tired away from his eyes, he put his reading glasses on and started going through his paperwork. He knew everything was in order for tomorrow’s meeting, but he was a stickler for detail. Going over every last aspect of this deal, no matter how miniscule they may seem, was important to Negan.

 

Still, even with his glasses, his vision was a blur. He found himself unable to focus on the fine print. He blinked a few times, managing to read three or four sentences, but his eyes were growing heavier and heavier. Unable to fight the sleep that consumed his exhausted mind and body any longer, he allowed his eyelids to droop and close.

 

***

 

After scrubbing himself thoroughly, Rick spent a little extra time in front of the mirror. Trimming his beard and grooming his eyebrows, making sure every last strand of his towel-dried hair laid just right. Pleased with his reflection, he brushed and flossed his teeth before splashing on a little of Negan’s cologne, hoping the smell of the river had washed down the drain completely. 

 

Not bothering to dress, he dropped his towel in the sink and turned off the bathroom lights.. 

 

“I don’t know about you, but I feel so much — ”

 

Rick stopped, taking in the sight of the slumping form on the bed. “Great.  _ Now he sleeps _ .” 

 

All this time that he’d spent with Negan, telling him he didn’t get enough sleep, he had to choose now, this very moment, to do just that. Walking over to his side of the bed, Rick sat down beside him. 

 

He loved the way he looked in his glasses. His intentions, at first, were just to admire him. Let him sleep. But his hand had other plans and soon found its way to his face. With one finger and a featherlight touch, he traced the full line of his lips. Rick smiled at the way the tiny lines around his eyes deepened and the corners of his mouth twitched. 

 

Pulling off his glasses and removing the papers from Negan’s lose grasp, Rick placed everything inside his briefcase and slid it under the edge of the bed. Bending, he placed a weightless kiss on his cheek, his chin, then his lips. He didn’t stir.

 

Adamant on getting the attention his body was aching for, Rick crawled up on the bed, planting himself in the sleeping man’s lap.

 

“Negan,” he whispered, nudging his neck and jawline with his nose. “ _ Negan _ .”

 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, smiling faintly at the naked man in his lap. 

 

“If you'd rather sleep… ”

 

Negan held him by the hips, drawing him closer. “I don’t need to sleep. I need— ”

 

“Tell me it’s  _ me _ that you need,” Rick breathed into his mouth. “Even if it’s not true. Just tell me you need me.”

 

“I need you, Rick.”

 

“Tell me you want me.”

 

Negan held his face in his hands, running his thumb airily over his lips. “I  _ do  _ want you.”

 

Rick closed his eyes, letting himself believe those words were true. He had no doubt that Negan wanted and needed him for sex. That much was obvious. But Rick’s idea of  _ need  _ and  _ want  _ went deeper than that. Much deeper, in fact. He wanted more than anything to be  _ his _ . To fully belong to him. 

 

He noticed again, looking down at him now as he prepped and worked his body open, that Negan looked at him differently than he did at the beginning of the week. That faint spark of something new. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly. But it gave him hope.

 

“Goddamn,” Negan gasped, watching Rick ride his slick fingers. “You’re fucking beautiful, baby.”

 

_ Baby _ .

 

Hearing that word, Rick’s heart began to pound so loudly in his own ears, he wondered if Negan could hear it, too. He’d never called him anything other than his name before. It was the confirmation he’d been waiting for. 

 

Negan held himself firm with one hand and used the other to guide Rick’s hips into position. His eyes closed and his jaw locked as the hands on his hips encouraged him to sink lower and lower. The feel of hard, silky flesh pushing up inside him took his breath away. Digging his fingers into Negan’s shoulders and bearing down, Rick slid home in one slick glide.

 

Negan needed the tightness that gripped him so strongly to move, but Rick stilled. He leaned forward, threading his fingers behind Negan’s neck, pressing their foreheads together. The urgency coursing through his own veins, but still, he didn't move. 

 

“Tell me again.”

 

Negan brushed his cheek against Rick’s and whispered heavily against his ear. “I need you.” Feeling the way his words made Rick clench around him, he said it again. “ _ I — need — you — baby.” _

 

Rick threw his head back and growled. Then, and only then, did he start to move, fucking him in a slow, delicious rhythm. His lips, when he brought them down on Negan’s, mimicked the steady pace of his hips. Slow and gentle. Deep, bone-melting kisses that turned Negan’s insides to liquid. Every rise and fall of Rick’s body was a taste of heaven and hell combined. It was the most exquisite form of torture Negan had ever known. 

 

Rick moaned, God how he moaned, when Negan’s fingers gripped both mounds of his firm ass, stretching him wide and driving them into a faster tempo. His gasping cries were muffled by their mouths as their kisses grew deeper and more urgent. The moist sounds of bodies coming together in a clash of skin and sweat only intensified their arousal.

 

Rick, unaware he even had one before now, suddenly found his possessive side. He wanted to make Negan forget  _ everyone  _ before him. A covetous desire to fuck every last memory of anyone that  _ wasn’t  _ him out of his head or heart, wherever they lodged. 

 

The thought of another man or woman touching him made him crazy. He wanted to be the only one to please him. The only touch he ached for. To be the one that he craved for, yearned for, above  _ anyone _ else.

 

Reaching up and gripping the top of the headboard, Rick rode him with wild abandon, holding nothing back as he bounced with a feral intensity.

 

“Come on,” Negan breathed heatedly, his eyes blazing with lust. “Come on.”

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Rick whined deep in his throat, sweat dripping from his hair, his face contorted in a mask of obscene pleasure. 

 

“Come on.”

 

He could feel Rick beginning to fall apart. His thighs trembled as his body clamped down around him, gripping him like a warm, wet fist.  

 

“Come on, baby.”

 

That one word held such power, it sent Rick straight into oblivion, screaming out Negan’s name in ecstasy, taking him right along with him. Jet after jet of hot, creamy release painted Negan’s chest and neck. Rick could feel Negan’s warm eruption running down his thighs as his boneless body gave way and collapsed on top of him.

 

They both knew now, as they clung to each other’s sweat soaked bodies, seeking to catch their breath, that this was much more than  _ just  _ sex. There was no denying it. They could both feel it.

 

This is what Rick wanted, more than anything in the world. Strong, yet gentle arms wrapped lovingly around him. Feeling wanted by someone. No, not just someone.  _ Negan _ .

 

Negan’s take on the situation was a little more complicated. He was scared. Scared of getting this close to someone. His mother loved his father so much. He saw what it did to her when she lost it. It killed her. That’s why he pushed Lucille away. He was starting to get too close. Starting to feel things he didn’t want to feel. He pushed and pushed until she cracked under the pressure.

 

Rick managed to find the strength to hold his head up and look at him. That beaming smile on his face should have been considered beautiful, but it only tormented Negan even further. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him.

 

***

 

A soft smile curved Rick’s lips as he listened to the faint snores behind him. He turned his head to look up at the man who held him securely in his arms. His face relaxed in sleep. A stark contrast from when he was awake. The deep-rooted toughness was gone and his frown lines had faded. Rick sighed. Negan’s arms felt so good wrapped around him. He was safe and warm. 

 

“I love you,” Rick said softly, kissing the hand that Negan had tucked under Rick’s chin before settling in and giving sleep permission to carry him away. 

 

As Rick’s eyes drifted closed, Negan’s opened. He heard them. Those three words that had the power to break him. The ability to destroy them both. He remained still, feigning sleep and pretending he didn’t hear him at all. After feeling Rick’s muscles relax and his body go slack in his arms, Negan slipped out of bed.

 

He had a decision to make. 

  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

Rick turned over and buried his face in Negan’s pillow, inhaling deeply. He reached out, feeling for his warm body in his sleep, only to be met with an empty bed. Disappointed, he rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes open. 

 

As he stretched and yawned and scratched lazily through the dark hair on his lower stomach, the memories of last night came flooding back to him. 

 

_ I love you. _

 

And he meant it. He was wide awake now. He absolutely meant it with all his heart. He loved Negan. He wanted to tell him. He  _ needed  _ to tell him. 

 

His head jerked toward the tinny sound of a spoon hitting a dish in the other room. Negan was still home. He hadn’t left for work yet. Rick wrestled with the tangled mess of sheets around him, fighting his way out of the bed. 

 

He didn’t want to wait. He wanted to tell him how he felt, now. Fumbling to get his robe on, he practiced his confession over and over in his head.

 

Negan sat at the table, dressed for work with his briefcase by his feet, eating a bowl of mixed berries. 

 

“Hey you.” Rick pulled out a chair and sat down. “What are you thinking about sitting here all by yourself?” He smiled brightly, ready to profess his love, completely unaware that he had already told him.

 

Negan looked up from his breakfast. “Me? I was just, uh, thinking about how this will be our last night together. I'll soon be back in New York and you’ll finally be rid of me.”

 

_ What?  _

 

Rick felt the earth open up and swallow him whole. 

 

He stared down at the table with a heavy heart, suddenly sick to his stomach. He couldn’t believe it. He was just about to tell this man he loved him. Lay it all on the line. Last night meant nothing to him, he thought. This entire week  _ was  _ all about sex. 

 

_ Say something, Rick. Say something. _

 

“Rid of you?” Rick faked a small laugh. “Y-you haven’t been all that bad.” He didn't know what to say. 

 

Negan had thought about this all night and most of the morning. He looked at Rick. He could see that his face was painted with obvious hurt and disappointment. 

 

“My business is almost over,” Negan continued. “I can’t stay here forever.”

 

“I… I know.” Rick simply couldn't force himself to look up from the table. “I know that.”

 

“Rick?” Negan ducked his head down, trying to get him to make eye contact with him. “I’d  _ really _ like to see you again.”

 

Rick slowly lifted his gaze. “Really?” A huge smile stretched across his face, lighting up the whole room. “You would?”

 

“Yes,” Negan laughed. “I really would. I can’t fucking stand the thought of never seeing  you  again.”

 

Rick couldn’t contain his excitement. “Holy shit.” He was shaking. “Let me… let me think. I need to go home first. I can be packed and ready to go in fifteen minutes. I don’t have all that much. A couple bags at the most. When are we leaving? I can— ”

 

“Whoa, Rick. Slow the fuck down for a second. Let me explain how this is gonna work.”

 

“Okay.” Rick was trembling with excitement, squeezing his hands between his knees to hold himself still. His eyes sparkled and his smile was still in place.

 

“I’ve arranged for you to have a very nice apartment  _ here _ . You’ll have a car and a wide variety of stores ready to fucking suck up to you anytime you wanna go shopping. I’ll see that you get your own credit card. Everything's been taken care of.”

 

Rick’s smile was gone. His shoulders dropped and his stomach tightened. He really was going to be sick. Once his brain caught up and he was able to process Negan’s words, his happy demeanor had completely disappeared. For the second time, in a matter of minutes, he felt his blood drain to his feet.

 

Everything’s been taken care of? Was he serious? Did he really think his money could prevent the inevitable heartbreak once he got on that plane to go back to New York? No. This can’t be happening. He loved him. 

 

“What else, Negan? Y-you gonna leave me a fucking stack of money by the bed on your way through town? Take what you need from me, from my body, then move on until you need me again?”

  
  
“Rick. I… no.  _ No _ . It really wouldn’t be like that.”

 

Rick looked up at him, the threat of tears burning his eyes and making his chest ache. “How  _ would  _ it be, then?”

 

“Well, for one thing, it would get you off the fucking streets. This could change your goddamned life.”

 

“Me moving to another apartment isn't gonna change anything.” Rick shoved his chair hard with the back of his legs as he stood, knocking it over in the floor. 

 

Negan jumped up and followed him out to the balcony, stopping in the doorway, too scared to go any further.

 

“Rick, what is it that you want from me?”

 

Rick scoffed and ignored the painfully ignorant question as he watched the morning sun come up through the thick fog, casting a fiery glow over the city.

 

“What  _ exactly _ do you see happening between us?” Negan asked, his back braced firmly against the wall. “Fucking answer me.”

 

Rick exhaled shakily, trying to force the words out against the rising surge of panic in his throat.

 

“When I was a little boy, my dad, he would spank me when I was bad, which was pretty often. A minute or two of being beaten with whatever he could get his hands on in a hurry, and it was over. But my mom… well she had her  _ own  _ way of dealing with me.”

  
  
Rick paused, trying hard to swallow the lump that threatened to close his throat.

 

“She used to lock me up in the attic. I was just a little bitty thing when she first started doing it. I’d step out of line, make too much noise or just get on her nerves, and she’d drag me up those stairs. Up that ladder. She told me there were zombies. Dead people with rotting skin and sharp teeth who lived up there. That their favorite food was mean little boys who didn’t listen to their mommy.”

  
  
Negan, hearing the torment in his voice, wanted to go to him. To comfort him. But he couldn’t bring himself to go to the edge of the balcony. He just couldn’t. He felt like passing out just thinking about it. He stood against the wall, waiting for Rick to continue.

 

“It was  _ dark _ . She made sure there was never a working light up there. And it was hot, God it was so hot. But I would still curl up in the floor, in a fetal position, and hide under a thick stack of blankets. Sweaty and scared to death I was about to be eaten up by some hideous monster lurking somewhere behind me in the room.”

 

Rick swiped at the corner of his eye with the knuckle of his pointer finger. Negan couldn’t see his face as he was still watching the sunrise, but he knew he was trying not to cry. 

 

“If I was lucky, I would fall asleep.” Rick sighed heavily. “When I did, I had this… this dream. It was silly,  _ I know it was _ , but I couldn’t control it. It was  _ always  _ the same.” 

 

Rick braced his hands on the edge of the balcony and looked down. 

 

“I dreamed I was a prince.” He released a heavy-breathed laugh, embarrassed at himself. “A prince who had been captured by the wicked queen and held prisoner in a tower. Then out of nowhere, this knight on a white horse would come charging up and draw his sword, killing the queen. And I would wave and call down to him,  _ ‘I’m here! I’m up here!’ _ Oh, he was so brave.  _ He _ wasn't afraid of anything. He would climb up that tower and rescue me. Without hesitation.”

 

Rick, finally turning to face Negan, walked over to where he stood. 

 

“But you know what? Never once, in all the time I had this dream, did my brave knight say to me,  _ ‘C’mon, baby. I’ll put you up in a sweet apartment and buy you lots of nice things.’ _ ”

 

For once, Negan seemed to be at a loss for words. He just stared blankly, looking at the pain behind those heavy-hearted blue eyes. Pain that he had undoubtedly and unintentionally caused.

 

He finally opened his mouth to defend his offer, but before he could get the words out, his phone rang.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I had to call.” It was Simon. “I just got off the phone with Maggie Rhee. Get this. Hershel wants to meet with you.  _ Today _ .”

 

“What about?”

 

“She wouldn’t say. Negan, I think we’ve got him. His goddamn nuts are on the fucking block. We got him.” Simon laughed hysterically. “Look, if he really is caving in, I wanna get him to commit his stocks to us this afternoon.”

 

“No, Simon. That's no fucking good. Not for me. If he  _ really is  _ caving in, I'm not waiting until this afternoon. You have Greene meet me downtown this morning. I’ll be right there.”

 

Negan shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked at Rick. 

 

“I have to go now. But I… I want you to understand something, Rick. I heard everything you said. Every last goddamn gut-wrenching word. But this, my offer to you, I'm sorry but it's all I'm capable of right now. This is a big fucking step for me.”

 

Rick looked at him. Out of habit, he reached up and adjusted Negan's tie. “I know. It's a really good offer. For  _ someone like me _ , right?”

 

Those words cut through Negan deep. “That’s not fair,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away. “I have  _ never  _ treated you like a prostitute.”

 

_ You just fucking did,  _ Rick thought as he stood alone in the balcony doorway, a gentle breeze playing with the bed-rumpled curls around his ears. He closed his eyes, drinking in that familiar scent that blew all around him. Negan's cologne. He was gone, but the smell still lingered. Faint, like the whispers of a ghost. 

 

And that’s the way it would be if he decided not to take Negan’s offer. After tonight, he would be forever haunted by his memories. His smell, his smile… his touch. The way his hands could go from strong to delicate in an instant. Dancing across his skin, setting him on fire. Suddenly, the flood he'd been holding back began to fill his eyes.

 

“I love you,” he whispered brokenly, as those tears found their way down his cheeks. 

 

***

 

Rick hopped out of the shower at the sound of the phone ringing in the bedroom. Thinking it might be Negan, he ran for it, leaving behind a trail of wet, soapy footprints.

 

“Negan?” He cringed at how desperate he sounded. 

 

“No, sir. This is the manager. Could you please come down to the front desk? There’s someone here who wishes to speak with you.”

 

Before Rick could respond, he could hear a scuffling in the background.

 

“Rick.” It was Daryl. He had wrestled the phone away from the manager. “Hey man, get your ass down here. These assholes won’t let me come up to see ya.”

 

“Uh.” Rick looked down at his dripping wet, soap-covered skin. “Can you give me a few minutes? I gotta get dressed.”

 

Rick met Daryl downstairs and led him out to the poolside tables. “I've been calling and calling you. You were supposed to come by Tuesday. I left the money for you at the desk.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I was hiding out from the Guillermo and his gang. They’re after my ass, man.”

 

“Well if you had picked up the money you wouldn’t have had to run away and hide.”

 

“Hey. I was busy. I got a life too, ya know. Besides, I’ve been getting to know Jesus a little better. Spending a lot of time with him. I think you’d like him.”

 

“If you like him, I like him.”

 

Daryl stopped, looking Rick up and down, taking in his new style. “Shit, you look different. I’m afraid I’m gonna wrinkle you if I stand too close.”

 

Rick laughed, shaking his head. “Nothing's changed. Just new clothes. I’m still me underneath them.”

 

“You look really good, man. I’m serious. Sure don’t fit in down on the Metro now, lookin’ like ya do.”

 

“Thanks. I guess it’s easy to clean up when you got money.”

 

Daryl took his sunglasses off and leaned back in his chair. “So, when does he leave?”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“You get to keep the clothes?”

 

“Yeah.” Rick sighed. “He told me he wanted to see me again. But I think… I think definitely not. I just… I mean… this was just a job, right?” 

 

“Oh shit,” Daryl said, his mouth hanging wide open. “Oh  _ shit _ .”

 

“What?”

 

“Definitely not? You’re sure about that?”

 

Rick nodded, looking out at the water to avoid eye contact.

 

“I know you, man. I know this weepy ass look you get. You fell in love with him.”

 

“No… I … you don’t… stop it.” Rick was fumbling for words and fidgeting in his seat. He’s never been very good at lying.

 

“You fucking fell in love with this man. Goddamn. Did you not listen to anything I told you?”

 

“Daryl. I’m not stupid. I guess… I guess I like him… a little.”

 

“You  _ like  _ him?”

 

Rick looked him in the eye. “Yeah. I  _ do _ . Maybe a little more than  _ like  _ him.

 

“Big mistake. But hey, at least he ain’t no Lori. He’s a rich, classy guy.”

  
  
“Yeah,” Rick agreed. “A rich, classy guy who's gonna break my heart.” 

 

“C’mon. You don’t know that. He said so, right? He wants to see you again. It could work. It happens.”

 

“When does it happen, Daryl? When does it really happen? Things like this… they never happen for people like me.”

  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. I'm so emotional right now, seeing this one come to an end. I'm going to miss these two characters so much. 
> 
> A huge thank you from the bottom of my heart to each and every one of you. The readers. The kudos-givers. The commenters. You all give me life. You give me hope. Strength. Encouragement. I love you all. 
> 
> <3
> 
> Trigger warning: Attempted rape.

“Mr. Greene,” Simon said, shuffling papers as Negan paced the floor. “You said this morning that you wished to speak to Negan. Negan is now listening.”

 

Negan looked at Hershel. The lively man that went toe to toe with him in the restaurant was gone. This man, in front of him now, was weary. His eyes did very little to conceal the broken spirit he was harbouring. The stress that Negan and his company had placed upon him had undoubtedly taken its toll on the older gentleman.

 

“I’ve reconsidered my position on your acquisition offer,” Hershel stated. “But only on _one_ condition.”

 

“And what would that be?” Negan asked, still pacing back and forth.

 

“I don’t give a damn about me but... the people that are _working_ for me —”

 

“That’s not a problem,” Simon said, cutting him off. “They’ll be taken care of.”

 

Negan’s eyes narrowed and his face twisted in disgust. He knew exactly what Simon meant by that. By _taken care of_ , he meant tossed out on their asses as soon as the deal was made. This is how they operated. Pacify them. Tell them whatever they want to hear.

 

“Well then, ladies and gentlemen, if we could address ourselves to the contracts in front of you, we can —”

 

“Excuse me, Simon.” Negan stopped him. “I'd like to speak to Mr. Greene for a few minutes, _alone_.”

 

Simon's color promptly drained from his face as he glared up at Negan, eyes plainly saying _do not fuck this up._ The only thing left to do was sign the contracts and the deal was done.

 

“Alright everyone, you heard the man. Please wait outside. We'll call you back in when we're—”

 

“You too, Simon.”

 

Simon laughed. “Wh-what do you mean?”

 

“I _mean_ that I would like to speak to Mr. Greene alone. Just the two of us.”

 

“Why does she get to stay?” Simon asked childishly, pointing at Maggie.

 

Hershel gestured toward the door with his head for his daughter to give he and Negan a few minutes alone.

 

“Please, Simon. _Please_.”

 

Simon exhaled heavily. “I'll be right outside.”

 

Negan noticed Hershel struggling against the bright sunlight shining directly in his eyes through the blinds. He adjusted them until his face relaxed comfortably.

 

“Is that better?”

 

“It's alright. Thank you.”

 

“Can I get you anything? Cup of coffee?”

 

Hershel nodded. “Black.”

 

Negan sighed harshly as he poured the coffee. “Mr. Greene, my interests in your company have changed.”

 

“What is it that you're after _now_?”

 

“Well, I no longer wish to buy your company and take it apart. But I don't want anyone else to do it either. Your company is still extremely vulnerable. So, I find myself in unfamiliar territory.”

 

He smiled at Hershel. He found himself thinking about Rick. _He_ saw the good qualities in this man. Negan was starting to see them, too.

 

“I want to help you.”

 

Hershel looked up in confusion. “ _Why_?”

 

Simon walked back and forth in the hallway as Negan told Hershel of his ideas regarding the future of his company.

 

“Mr. Greene, I think we could do something just fucking shy of spectacular with your company.”

 

“Wait a minute,” Hershel interjected. “What about our Navy contracts? I thought you said— ”

 

“Well,” Negan chuckled. “They weren’t _exactly_ dead, just delayed. I may have bluffed a little bit.”

 

Hershel joined in on the laughter. “I have to say, you’re very good at it.”

 

“Thank you very much. It’s my job.”

 

After Negan told him about his ideas to save his company, he stood up and extended his hand. “I think we can leave the final details up to the other suits, don't you?”

 

“I find this hard to say without sounding condescending,” Hershel said, shaking Negan’s offered hand. “But, I’m proud of you.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

Negan felt good about himself. Knowing he had helped _save_ someone’s company rather than destroying it gave him a very rewarding feeling.

 

Simon, on the other hand, might not see things in the same light. He was about to find out. Negan took a deep breath and opened the door.

 

“Negan.” Simon whispered coming back into the room. “You mind letting me in on the big secret?”

 

“It’s all yours,” Negan answered before walking out the door. “Mr. Greene will explain everything.”

 

Simon paused in perplexity. He walked over and picked up the contracts. Negan waited, listening in the hallway.

 

“Hold it. _Hold it_ . These aren’t signed. Why aren’t these goddamned contracts signed. Can someone please tell me what the _fuck_ is going on here?”

 

“Negan and I are going to build ships together,” Hershel stated, prompting Maggie to hug her father excitedly. “ _Great_ _big_ ships. Thanks to Negan, Maggie, we're going to be okay.”

 

Simon’s expression hid nothing. An angry glaze darkened his eyes. A billion dollar deal, thrown away, just like that. He knew exactly who was to blame for this.

 

Outside, Negan handed his briefcase to Jerry, who was waiting by the limo. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk. You mind waiting here for a bit?”

 

Needing to clear his head, Negan walked to the park. The park where he and Rick enjoyed so much time together the day before. Remembering how relaxed he felt, he found his way back to the same willow tree, seating himself under its sheltering branches. It wasn’t the same. There was something missing.

 

Right. He was barefoot yesterday. That’s what it was. Removing his shoes and socks, he leaned back against the trunk, allowing the soft blades of grass to tickle the spaces between his toes. It still wasn’t right. No matter how he situated or positioned himself, the calm, unwinding feeling from before just wouldn’t come.

 

***

 

Rick was preoccupied with folding and packing up all of his new clothes when the doorbell rang, startling him. Still dressed in his robe, he partially concealed himself with the door when he cracked it open.

 

“This isn't a good time. I'm not dr —” Rick's mouth went dry. “ _Simon_.”

 

“Well, well, well.”  Simon eyed the parts of Rick’s robe-clad body that wasn’t hidden behind the door. “So we meet again. I uh… I was looking for Negan.”

 

“Negan’s not here. He’s supposed to be with you.”

 

Simon laughed obnoxiously, pushing his way past Rick, inviting himself into the room. “No. Negan’s definitely _not_ with me. If Negan were with me—  excuse me, _when_ Negan was with me, he didn’t fucking _blow_ _off_ billion dollar deals.” He walked over to the bar and helped himself to a drink. “I think… I think Negan’s with _you now_ , that’s what I fucking think.”

 

Rick was beyond uncomfortable. Frightened, really. The feeling growing in intensity with every passing second that he shared the same space with this man.

 

“Would you have a drink with me?” Simon held a glass of bourbon out to Rick.

 

“No. No, thank you.”

 

As he tightened the belt around his robe, Rick noticed his hands were shaking. He made his way to the couch and sat down, folding his legs up underneath him.

 

“Negan should be back soon. Any minute now, as a matter of fact, he’ll be home.”

 

“You know,” Simon chuckled, taking a seat beside Rick. “This is not _home_ . This is a hotel room. And y _ou..._ you're a hooker.”

 

Rick moved further away on the couch, concealing the sliver of exposed skin on his leg with the robe.

 

“Maybe you’re a very _good_ hooker. Maybe…” Simon inched closer. “Maybe if I fucked you... _I wouldn’t care_ about losing millions of dollars.”

 

“ _Please_.” Rick moved over a little more. “I won't do that. I’m not going to —”

 

“And I have to be very honest with you right now, Rick.” Simon closed the gap between them again. “Right now, I _do_ fucking care. I really do.”

 

Rick pushed himself up against the arm of the couch, trapping himself when Simon moved over with him.

 

“Right now, I am pissed the fuck off. I'm talking out of my goddamned _mind_ with anger.”

 

Simon lifted the hem of Rick’s robe, massaging his kneecap. Recoiling at the unwanted touch, Rick shoved his hand away, attempting to physically hold the fabric down over his legs.

 

“But maybe if I fucked your ass into this couch… ” Rick tried to stand up. “Maybe if _I_ took you to the opera…” Simon placed a strong hand against his chest, shoving him back down. “Maybe I could be a happy guy… not giving a fuck about anything or anyone… just like Negan.”

 

Simon pinned him against the cushions, holding him down with the weight of his body and a forearm across his throat.

 

“Get off of me,” Rick hissed through clenched teeth. “Negan’s gonna be here any —”

 

“You think he’s going to save you?” Simon’s other hand separated his legs, his fingernails digging into soft, bare flesh as he explored his inner thighs roughly. “You’re just a hired piece of ass.”

 

Rick stared into the dark. angry eyes above him. “Please don’t,” he begged, struggling to free his arms. “Don’t touch me.”

 

“ _Oh_ I’m gonna touch you. And then I’m gonna fuck you. Then I’m gonna fuck you again. And again. Again and again and again, until I’ve _fucked_ every last cent out of you that you _fucked_ me out of today.”

 

“I had nothing to do with whatever happened today.”

 

“You had _everything_ to do with it.” Simon said, tracing along the length of Rick’s inner thigh with one finger. “Apparently this hot little body of yours, and _it is_ hot, has the power to change people. Negan was a good man before you came along. Ruthless. You ruined him in a matter of days. So why shouldn’t I ruin you?” Simon’s fingers reached their destination.

 

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” Unable to do anything else under Simon’s weight and strength, Rick spit in his face.

 

“You fucking whore!” Simon’s fist connected solidly with Rick’s cheekbone before he gripped his robe and forced him over on his stomach.

 

Rick felt a rush of cool air as he was forced up on his knees. He knew he was exposed.

 

“Please don’t do this.” Rick sobbed heavily against the cushion his face was being pressed into.

 

The sound of a clinking belt buckle behind him followed by the metal against metal sound of a zipper being released sent Rick into a frenzied panic. Every muscle in his body ached as he sought for the strength to fight him off.

 

“ _Please_ , _don’t!”_

 

Feeling exhausted and hopeless against the overpowering weight on top of him, Rick’s body went slack. Fighting and struggling was pointless. Simon was bigger and stronger. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, bracing himself and praying it would all be over soon.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?”

 

Rick barely heard the thunderous voice over the roar of his own blood rushing through his ears.  He was on the brink of blacking out when the offensive weight was suddenly lifted off of him.

 

“I should fucking kill you.”

 

“Come on, Negan. It’s _me_. We’ve known each other for years. You picked him up off the fucking streets.”

 

Rick scrambled to the end of the couch, pulling his robe down to cover himself. Negan’s eyes were furious, glaring blindly into Simon’s as he gripped him by the collar of his shirt, pinning him against the wall.

 

“He’s a whore, Negan. Nothing but a goddamned, worthless —”

 

Negan’s fist caught him square in the middle of his face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch and a spray of blood that decorated both men’s suits.

 

“You broke my fucking nose!”

 

“Get the fuck out of here.” Negan opened the door, throwing Simon’s briefcase out into the hall.

 

“What are you doing, Negan? You’re choosing him over me?”

 

“Get the fuck out of here!”

 

“What is wrong with you? I’ve devoted my entire career to you for Christ’s sake!”

 

“That’s bullshit. That is _such_ fucking bullshit. It’s the goddamn kill you love, not me. I created you. I made you a very rich man doing exactly what you love. Now get the hell out of here before I change my fucking mind about killing your sorry ass. Get out!”

 

***

 

“ _Ow_.” Rick flinched in pain as Negan gently laid an ice pack against his bruising cheek.

 

“Sorry.” Negan caressed his uninjured cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry about Simon. I should have listened to you.”

 

“I heard about what you did with Hershel. Some of it anyway.”

 

“It was a business decision,” Negan lied. He knew Rick’s influence on him had everything to do with it.

 

“It was a good decision.”

 

“It felt good.”

 

Negan was looking down at him. His hand cradling his face and stroking his hair. Rick held onto that gaze, trying his best to memorize every last detail. He wanted to pretend he was looking at him for the first time… instead of the last.

 

His eyes. Sparks of green, swirling inside a golden brown. His lips. Pink and damp from a recent swipe of his tongue. His hair. Black with the perfect amount of silver threads laced in.

 

He reached up, tracing every line and curve that produced the stunning originality of his face with his fingertips. He was going to miss him so much.

 

“I gotta get going.” Rick knew if he stayed any longer, he would regret it.

 

“Yeah,” Negan said, dropping his head. “I noticed you were all packed. Wh-why are you leaving _now_? We've got one more night left.”

 

“Negan. You made me a really nice offer. A few months ago, I would have jumped right on it. But now… well everything is different. You changed that. _What I feel for you_ has changed that. We can’t change it back. Every time I look at you, I can't help but fall a little harder. I can’t accept your offer. It’s… it's just not enough. I want more.”

 

Not more money. Not more clothes. No. He wanted more time. Time with him. Not time spent sitting alone in an apartment, waiting for him to drop in to see him.

 

“I know about wanting more, Rick. I invented the fucking concept. The question is, how much more do you want?”

 

Rick smiled, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “I want my dream, Negan. I want the fairytale.”

 

“Impossible relationships,” Negan said, shaking his head. “The only thing my father ever gave me. My special gift of impossible relationships. I just can't put you through that, Rick. You deserve better.”

 

As Rick sat down to put his shoes on, Negan walked over, handing him the envelope of money with his name written on it. “Thank you. For everything.”

 

Rick dropped his head and accepted the money.

 

“Here. Take this, too.” Negan handed him one of his business cards. “If you ever need _anything_ … dental floss… whatever, you give me a call.”

 

_Dental floss._

 

They shared a short-lived laugh.

 

Rick nudged him with his shoulder. “I had a good time.”

 

“Yeah.” Negan nodded. “So did I.”

 

Rick stood, gathering all of the shopping bags he had packed.

 

“That's a lot for one person to carry. Would you like for me to get you a bellboy?”

 

“No,” Rick said. “I can manage.”

 

Negan opened the door for him but immediately closed it, resting his forehead against it. “Please stay. Stay the night with me. Not for the fucking money. Stay with me because you want to.”

 

“I can’t,” Rick whispered brokenly.

 

Negan smiled, feigning an understanding nod and opened the door. “Goodbye, Rick. You take care of your fucking self.”

 

Rick looked up, his blue eyes overflowing now, and placed a soft kiss on Negan’s lips. “I think you have a lot of special gifts.”

 

Negan closed the door after watching Rick disappear into the elevator and leaned against it heavily. His heart dropped when he heard the elevator ding.

 

“Goddammit,” he whispered.

 

The silence of the room was deafening. Negan missed him already. He found himself tearing up up as the realization hit him like a fist. He needed him. Wanted him. _He loved him_. And now, he was gone.

 

Maybe it wasn’t too late. He could at least try and stop him. Maybe, if he was loud enough, Rick could hear him from the balcony. Running as fast as his legs would carry him, he made it through the doors, but a paralyzing wave of panic stopped him before he reached the edge. He couldn’t do it. His goddamn fear wouldn’t let him go any further.

 

Rick gave his address to Jerry and stared out of the limousine’s back window. Through his tear-soaked eyes, he watched as the hotel grew smaller and smaller, not turning around until it was out of sight completely.

 

His knight wasn’t coming to rescue him.

 

***

 

“Macon ain’t that great, ya know?” Daryl was helping Rick gather the rest of his belongings before the 9am bus came to take him back home. “You’re just gonna have to deal with Lori and the same old shit from your folks again.”

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

“What are gonna do when you get there?”

 

“I’m gonna see if I can get my old job back. Find a decent place to live.” Rick paused, thinking about leaving Daryl without a roommate. “Why don’t you come with me?”  


“And give all of this up?” Daryl joked. “Nah, I don’t wanna be that far away from Jesus.”

 

“Well, it’s almost time for my bus. I better finish packing. Come here.”

 

“What?” Daryl asked.

 

“Just… come over here.”

 

Rick reached inside his pocket and pulled out five-hundred dollars, sticking it inside Daryl’s front pocket.

 

“The fuck is this? Why are you givin’ me more money, man?”

 

“Just shut up and take it,” Rick laughed. “I really hope you and Jesus make it, Daryl. At least one of us deserves to be happy, right?”

 

“You’ll get there.” Daryl looked at his watch. “What time’s your bus comin’?”

 

“Half an hour.”

 

“I’m gonna have to split,” Daryl said, giving Rick a quick smile, avoiding eye contact. Rick knew he wasn’t good with goodbyes. “Keep in touch.”

 

“I will. See ya.”

 

***

 

Negan arrived at the front desk to formally check out. “Do you have any messages for me? Anything from a Mr. Rick Grimes?”

 

“No, sir. I don’t see anything. Shall I have Jerry take you to the airport?”

 

“No,” Negan said, signing the charge slip. “I have my own car here.”

 

The manager eyed the jewelry box containing the cufflinks that Rick had worn to the opera. “May I?” he asked, wanting to look inside.

 

“Of course, please. They were… they were just a loan. I’m taking them back to the store before I leave.”

 

The manager gasped, taking in the sight of the brilliant diamonds nestled inside the box. “It must be very difficult, sir.”

 

“What do you mean?” Negan asked, looking at the cufflinks and thinking about Rick.

 

“Having to let go of something so incredibly beautiful.”

 

Negan felt his heart sink. That's exactly what he had done. Let go of the most beautiful person he had ever known. And he was worth a hell of a lot more than those little rocks inside that jewelry box.

 

“You have no idea.”

 

The manager observed Negan's solemn expression and the tears dancing in his eyes.

 

“I don’t know if this information would be beneficial to you or not, but Jerry took your friend home yesterday.”

 

Negan’s eyes shot up, meeting the managers who offered him a knowing smile. Jerry knew where Rick was.

 

“Will it be okay if I leave my car here for a little while?”

 

***

 

Rick was walking through the cramped apartment, gathering his bags when he stopped dead in his tracks. His head turned toward the window, swearing he could hear someone calling his name. He shrugged it off and continued to collect his bags.

 

_“Rick.”_

 

He definitely heard it that time.

 

_“Rick.”_

 

His heart pounded in his chest. He could hear opera music playing. The haunting memories of Negan have started already, he thought.

 

_“Rick.”_

 

With the sound of his name and the music growing louder, Rick went to the window.

 

_“Rick.”_

 

Happy tears flowed from Rick freely as he watched the limousine come up the street. Negan was standing up through the sunroof, holding two dozen long-stemmed red roses.

 

“Prince, Rick! Come down!”

 

Rick ran out to the fire escape. “That’s not how my fairytale goes!”

 

Negan looked up, already feeling dizzy. “It had to be the top floor, didn’t it?”

 

“It’s the best,” Rick said mockingly, waiting for his knight to climb the tower.

 

“Okay. I’m coming up!”

 

Negan, placing the roses between his teeth and pulling down the ladder, began to climb. His unsteady, trembling legs were threatening to buckle underneath him. A cold sweat broke out across his brow, multiplying with every rung he put his feet on.

 

Rick ran down, meeting him halfway. Negan took him in his arms, kissing him on the lips - his face -  his neck - and back to his lips.

 

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back to look at him. “So what happens after? In your dream? What happens after he climbs up the tower and rescues him?”

 

Rick smiled, wrapping his arms around him tighter. “He rescues him right back.”

 

“You already rescued me _,_ Rick _._ You saved me from my fucking self. And I love you.”

 

With his bottom lip quivering, Rick's eyes filled with tears. “I love you, too.”

 

“Let’s go,” Negan said, pulling away from another passionate kiss.

 

“Back to the hotel?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Rick dropped his head. “I told you, I can't—”

 

“I gotta pick up my car. We got a long drive ahead of us. Atlanta to New York is a pretty fucking long stretch of highway.”

 

Rick looked at him, studying him carefully. “New York?”

 

“We're going home, baby.”


End file.
